500 Sweetie Ficlets
by melodrome
Summary: 500 prompts: 500 unconnected sweetie ficlets. Some funny, some sad, some cute... most a bit of everything. A lot of JamesLily, but also some HarryGinny, RonHermione, RemusTonks, TeddyVictoire.... First chapter: James Potter has just cursed his arse off.
1. Prompt 382: Curse

**A/N: **_Yesterday I was ambling through livejournal and I came across an absolutely marvellous community._ _(website for said community on profile page)_  
_Unfortunately, the community is dead._  
_I moped the rest of the night and realized that I don't need that community to do the challenge. I can do it better my own way._  
_So, instead of doing only one table of prompts, I am conquering them all._

___Am I crazy? Absolutely. But that's half the fun._

___All the ficlets will be canon, or potentially canon. Most, I think I can anticipate saying, will be Lily/James, but certainly not all. I will keep them all at or below T-rating._

___So here is the first of (hopefully) 500 drabbles. I have, however, stolen the prompts from the challenge, so I can't take any form of credit for that, much as I can't for J.K. Rowling's characters, premise, etc. _

___The prompts can be viewed _at the page listed on my profile. _If you prefer to view them by prompt (once I have a few more up), each prompt will be linked to its respective chapter._

_____I'm already having fun. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

_____September, 1981_

James Potter just cursed his arse off.

It wasn't a gorey scene; his backside was merely missing. Lily, meanwhile, was wiping the tears of laughter from her cheeks. Harry was sitting on the floor and looking at James with incredible wonder. James promptly began cursing his arse off in a different sense.

"Calm... calm down, James, you'll give Harry a dreadful vocabulary," Lily said through hiccups.

"Calm down!" James shrieked. "I have no arse, Lily. I am arseless. I can't even bloody wear trousers anymore."

And Lily's words were gone in a fresh fit of hysterical giggles.

"Liiiiily," James whined. "You're supposed to be all concerned and tell me what to do and offer to fetch me a goblet of pumpkin juice while I'm thinking."

"I..." she hiccupped again and grabbed hold of the doorframe for support. "I'm sorry. Really, James, I am, this is... this must be so dreadful for you." She pursed her lips tightly to hide her grin. James didn't notice.

"It is. I loved my arse."

"I know you did. I was rather fond of it myself. But really James, it's only half-gone. You should be lucky it hasn't all left you."

James only whimpered in response. Harry gurgled happily and pointed at what used to be James' hindquarters, looking at his mother as though expecting her to notice and gurgle happily, too.

"Mad-Eye!" James exclaimed suddenly. "We have to owl him! Immediately! He knew a bloke who had the same thing happen, he's bound to know a counter-spell..."

"I'm not sure there is a spell for arse-restoration."

"There must be, if there's a spell for arse-removal."

Lily snorted in laughter again and ducked hastily out of the room. James was very disheartened and looked sadly at his profile in the mirror, not on good enough terms with his wand to try and reverse the damage. "What are you looking at?" he asked Harry moodily as they caught each others' eyes in the mirror.

"Aaah," Harry replied, gaping up at his father.

"Is that so?"

Harry grinned and pointed again at James' backside.

James was not seeing the humour in this.

"All right," Lily said, re-entering the room with a goblet of pumpkin juice. James' expression softened and he took it in both hands, sipping it like a small child. Lily smiled fondly at him and turned him around while he drank, looking at his rear end (former) with contemplation. Finally she shrugged and turned James back around. "I honestly don't know what to do for you, James."

James whined. "But you're the best Charmstress in all the land!"

"You made that word up."

"Doesn't make it any less true."

She smiled and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him softly before scurrying back to the doorway and poking her head around the corner. "All right, you lot, you can come in now."

To James' extreme horror, the entire Order of the Phoenix piled into the room after her. Soon, thirty people stood before him, some regarding him with extreme amusement, others with contemplation. Others, namely Sirius and Peter, rolled around on the carpet, unable to breathe for laughing. Harry merely rolled around.

"I'm sorry this had to happen to you, James," Remus said, suppressing a grin.

"I told you," Moody said, stepping forward and scowling. "I told you, didn't I? Never put your wand in your back pocket or you'll end up cursing off your hindquarters."

"I am afraid," Dumbledore said morosely, "that this is a disability the Order cannot overlook. We can no longer sustain you in our cause, James. I'm sorry."

"Nooooo_____ooooo!"_

_____James sat bolt upright in bed, clutching his backside. Lily sat slowly up beside him, looking at him with concern. "What happened? Are you all right?"_

_____Once fully confident that his hindquarters were in check, James lay back down and sighed with relief. "I am now," he breathed._

_____"Bad dream?" Lily was concerned. James had been having a lot of nightmares lately; he cried out in his sleep more than Harry did some nights._

_____James paused and put his arm around his beautiful wife. "Everything's all right," he muttered eventually into her hair as he fell back to sleep._

_____Stupid Mad-Eye._


	2. Prompt 258: Graveyard

_June, 1998_

This time, there were flowers.

It wasn't like it had been in December, with every plant withered and dying, stems barely visible beneath the layers of grey snow. Now there were countless lilies, scattered all over the grave, somehow thriving in the hard, cold earth.

"I feel a little redundant now," Ginny muttered, clasping Harry's hand tightly with one of her own. Her other hand clutched a small tiger lily, fully in bloom and swaying softly in the light summer winds.

Harry shook his head. "You aren't."

Ginny snorted softly with laughter. "Thanks."

A hint of a smile played at his lips, but he didn't look at her; the white marble drew his full attention too well.

_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._

Ginny read it over and over with him, not letting go of his hand, not saying a word. Harry had told her a hundred times that she didn't have to come, that this was something he just had to do, but she hadn't listened. She'd been to enough funerals lately, including that of her own brother, to have had her fill of graveyards for a lifetime, but this was different. Now she wasn't thinking of Fred, or Lupin, or Tonks, or anyone except Harry. She wanted him to talk to her, but knew he wouldn't until he'd cessed out what he needed to. And then he'd talk.

"I wonder what they'd say," he said finally in a strange voice, "if they knew what I've done."

Ginny didn't respond.

"We died to save each other."

That one needed some explanation. "What do you mean?" she asked softly.

"My parents let Voldemort kill them to save me. I let Voldemort kill me to save them, their memories."

"You're not dead, Harry."

"I should be. Twice over."

"But you aren't."

"They are. They were the first. Then Sirius, then Pettigrew, then Remus, and countless others in between. And then me."

"Harry."

"I feel cheap."

"Harry, stop," Ginny said more harshly, stepping in front of him to break his line of sight with the headstone. "You weren't fighting for them. You were fighting for the lives of everyone else, for Ron, for Hermione, for my family, for Neville, for Luna... for Teddy, for that beautiful baby boy who you get to raise because you destroyed death, Harry. After everything and everyone you lost, after everything you have to fear from death, you looked their last enemy in the eye and in doing so made yourself able to defeat it, for their sake and for your own, but mostly for the sake of everyone else."

Harry couldn't move his eyes away from hers. "You make me sound so heroic," he muttered.

"It helps that you're a hero," she whispered to him, biting the inside of her lip to dissuade her tears.

Harry shook his head. "I--"

But then his lips were occupied, and the rest of his sentence died in his throat. "Please don't make me argue with you. It just doesn't seem the time," Ginny requested quietly after she'd pulled away.

Harry smiled sadly and pulled her into a hug, taking in her sweet scent and the way her hair glistened in the sunlight on its way down her back. "I'm going to re-build my parents' house," he said throatily after a few minutes.

Ginny squeezed him tightly. "I'd like to help you."

"You don't have to."

"I know, Harry. I want to." She paused. "We are doing it by magic, right?"

Harry smiled. "Unless you have other ideas...?"

"Nope, magic sounds good to me. I won't be able to do much for another couple of months, mind."

"Nor will I. I've got a baby to look after."

They planted the lily in the centre of the grave and, after one last good look, walked from the graveyard, hands clasped, feeling the heartbeat of the world around them.

"I think," Ginny told him as they walked through the metal gates, "that they'd have been proud, so incredibly proud... but I don't think they'd have been surprised."


	3. Prompt 383: Haircut

_July, 1981_

James was standing over his year-old-minus-a-day son with a pair of scissors, looking down at the tufts of jet black hair which were already causing James twice as much trouble as his own unruly locks ever had. 

"This isn't possible," he mumbled for the sixth time.

"It's quite remarkable," Lily agreed, plainly amused, regarding her cheerful son, who was clearly oblivious to his father's confusion.

"I am standing in two feet of hair, Lily. It's up to my knees. But he looks just like he did yesterday."

"Just like his father," she relayed fondly, leaning over the pile of hair to peck his cheek.

"Definitely handsome, to be sure, but... this is dark magic."

"Oh, come on, James."

"We should call the Order. Or Dumbledore, at the very least."

"He'll laugh at you."

"He laughs at me anyway."

"Everyone laughs at you anyway."

James ignored this last comment and regarded the top of Harry's head with suspicion. He attacked his son's hair once again, causing a shower of jet black to fall softly to the floor. He stepped back moments later, small beads of sweat forming on his brow, to find the hair _exactly as it had been thirty seconds before_. "How are you doing this?!" James asked Harry incredulously.

Harry giggled. 

"That's it," James said, stepping out from the pile of hair and storming over to the fireplace. He took a pinch of powder from a small jar on the mantel and threw it into the fire, poking his head into the green flames moments later. "Padfoot, mate, you have to come see this."

"Oh, _really_, James."

But James had stepped back into the leg holes formed in the large pile of hair and was attempting to stare Harry's hair down. Sirius climbed out of the fireplace and swept the soot off himself as he stepped with concern over to the couple. "Something in the Prophet?" he asked nervously. 

"No," James said, beckoning at Harry's hair. Sirius frowned.

"I've seen your son before, Prongs. It's generally agreed that he's lovely; a spitting image of his father with his mother's eyes, yadda yadda yadda. Not that I'm not fond of you lot, but you called me all the way here to see Harry sitting in a booster chair?"

"Just watch," James said, once again bending over and chopping off large chunks of Harry's hair. Before James stood upright, Harry looked identical to the way he had when Sirius had walked in.

Sirius' jaw dropped. "That's mad!" he said, in awe of his godson.

"I know!" James exclaimed. Harry smiled at Sirius as he and James rushed around to see him from Lily's point of view, unclear on why he was getting all this attention, but not exactly minding it. The baby raised a fist, opening and closing it rhythmically. Sirius grinned and waved back in similar fashion.

"I like your son," Sirius decided.

"Me too," James responded happily. But his smile faded. "I think it's a curse."

"It isn't a curse!" Lily exclaimed annoyedly. Sirius likewise shook his head.

"He's a wizard, Prongs. What else do you expect him to do? Plus he's your son, and you hate haircuts."

James pouted and ruffled his hair without thinking about it. "I do not."

"You do so, you nearly cried last time I gave you one," Sirius grinned.

"That's because you botched the job, didn't you? I had to wear a toque for two bloody months after that one, everyone thought I was going prematurely bald..."

"If you're quite finished," Lily said loudly. James was strongly reminded of fifth-year Lily, and smiled sheepishly at her. Her expression softened immediately.

Sirius grinned. "Anyway, I best shove off, I'm on watch tonight. I sent Harry's present in the post yesterday, it should get here by tomorrow."

"Oh, Padfoot, you didn't have to," Lily gushed.

"What sort of godfather would I be if I didn't?" he grinned. "I'll see you two next month, if not before." He gave James a brotherly hug and pecked Lily on the cheek before ruffling Harry's full head of hair affectionately.

"Be safe," Lily said, putting her arm around James as they watched Sirius step into the flames.

"You know me," he winked, and disappeared from view.

Lily turned back to regard Harry, who was ogling after them as though wondering why he wasn't the centre of attention anymore. "I worry about him sometimes."

"I think he's all right," James reassured her, "aside from this hair business. I don't know what's going on there."

"I mean Sirius, you dummy," she said, turning into him and wrapping her arms around his middle.

"I know. I worry too."

She sighed. "When will we quit, James?"

"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death," he said softly. She'd heard it before; he said it often, mostly after particularly harsh battles that took more than just gusto out of him, but this time it was in resignation rather than determination.

All the same, she frowned. "You couldn't have chosen an _attainable_ goal?"

James broke from the hug and kissed her. "We've already attained it," he said softly, turning her around so she was facing Harry and wrapping his arms lightly around her waist. The boy was dozing in his chair, head flopped over to once side, black hair sticking up in all directions. 

"He's extraordinary," she whispered.

"Mm," James agreed.

"We made one hell of a baby."

"Mmmm."

"Even if his hair is Voldemort's work."

"A curse, I say."


	4. Prompt 160: Commit

_January, 2003_

Harry dropped the pages he was leafing through and threw off his glasses exhaustedly, rubbing his hands over his face. "I don't understand Mundungus."

Ron grunted in response.

"He keeps breaking laws."

Grunt.

"And we keep arresting him, and then he goes about breaking more laws."

Another grunt.

"And he's getting more serious about it too. The other day Morannis caught him making slurs against Muggle-borns in Knockturn Alley to attract pureblood business. One more offence and we'll have to put him into Azkaban."

Double grunt.

"Also I saw Viktor Krum sneaking out of your house yesterday. He wasn't wearing much, you might want to check with Hermione on that one."

"Don't even joke about that."

Harry smiled. "Been listening long, have you?"

Ron didn't respond.

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing."

"Haven't been fighting with Hermione again, have you?"

Silence.

Harry sighed emphatically and leaned back in his chair. "Well, at least _she's_ talking to me."

Ron's head snapped up with incredible speed, his red hair flying backwards. "She is? What's she been saying?"

"Why don't you ask her?"

"Because..." Ron hesitated. "Because we'll only end up fighting."

"That's because you keep ruddy asking, 'what's with you, then?'"

Ron scowled. "At least I'm showing concern!"

"That's not concern, Ron. That's flippant annoyance."

"So what do you suggest, oh-happily-married-one?" he spat.

"Sit down with her while she's reading or making dinner and sincerely ask her what's on her mind."

"I do!"

"Really? What do you say?"

Ron didn't respond.

"She loves you, you know."

"Does she?" he mumbled miserably. "I can't even tell anymore."

"That's what she said, too."

Ron remained silent. Harry hesitated. "You... you do love her, right?"

"Of course I do!" Ron growled immediately, anger etched upon his face at the mere question. "Merlin, more than..." he trailed off and cleared his throat. "I don't understand why this is happening."

This time it was Harry's turn to be silent. "Is it me and Ginny that's making your relationship tense?" he asked eventually.

Ron closed his eyes and exhaled. "Don't take this the wrong way, mate, but why the ruddy hell did you have to get married?"

Harry stared. "Is there a right way to take that?"

"No, I mean... now the pressure's on. Since you got engaged, things have been slipping with Hermione and me. Sometimes she looks at me out of the corner of her eye when she's researching or cooking or something, and I feel like she's mentally asking me why I haven't gotten my act together and asked her to marry me, too."

"So why haven't you?"

Ron turned red and mumbled something about 'right moment'.

Harry snorted. "Daunting concept though it may be, women like to know you're committed, right moment or not."

"And how would it look if you proposed to Ginny, and I proposed to Hermione the next week? Wouldn't she wonder if I'd only done it because you had?" Ron shook his head. "If you'd bloody _consulted me_ before you proposed to my sister..."

"I did!"

"Yeah, in passing. 'Oh, hey, mate, I think I might ask Ginny to marry me. That sound all right?' No specification as to 'I bought the ring months ago' or 'I have it all planned out for Saturday'."

Harry blushed. "I was wondering why you looked so shocked when we told you."

"And it's not like I haven't thought about it, either," Ron continued, staring blankly at his desk. "I've thought about it a lot. We're both on our feet in terms of careers now, it'd be a good time... except that we haven't gotten along for a year and a half. I keep wondering if we would even make it now. We go to your place for dinner and I'm in absolute awe. I haven't seen you argue once for years. You must have a system worked out. I don't understand it. Hermione and I fight about _everything_. And I know I'm not the easiest person to get along with, but you'd think she'd be used to it by now."

"Ron," Harry interrupted incredulously. "Why haven't you told her any of this? She said almost the exact same thing to me last week. I'm sure that if you talked it out..."

"I... don't know how to do that."

"You never have, you two," Harry mumbled, reminiscent of the five plus years they spent fancying each other and neither one saying a word to the other about it. "Listen. You've argued with each other since the beginning of your friendship. There have been months where you wouldn't even say a word to each other. You love her, and I know for a fact that she loves you. Stop focusing on my marriage and make one of your own to focus on."

Ron looked pleadingly at Harry. "Is there a... a process or something?"

"Well, a ring is a good starter point."

Ron half-smiled at Harry before ducking down and pulling out a tiny box covered in velvet from a desk drawer. He placed it carefully down in front of him and looked vaguely content at the prospect it held inside it. Harry gaped.

"You really have thought about it!"

Ron's smile turned to an expression of annoyance. "Cheers for the confidence."

"How long have you had that stashed away?"

"Since about two weeks before you proposed to Ginny."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Are you bloody kidding me?"

Ron shook his head. "I have the slip to prove it, but it's buried under a bunch of other paper so I don't fancy fishing it out."

Harry laughed. "Are you a complete simpleton? Ask her to marry you already!"

"I... should we..."

"Forget anything else. Go home. Right now."

"Right now?" Ron asked weakly.

"Right now."

"Should..."

"No."

"But..."

"No."

"Harry..." Harry stopped, recognizing the pleading tone again. "What if she says no?" he asked meekly.

Harry nearly laughed, but managed to keep a straight face. "She won't say no," he said with complete candor.

A slow grin spread over Ron's face. Harry grinned back at him as he got abruptly to his feet, grabbed the small box off his desk and nearly sprinted toward the exit.


	5. Prompt 308: Insomniac

_June, 1997_

Maybe it was because it was nearly summer; maybe it was because he wasn't used to the body sleeping beside him; or maybe it was just his werewolf tendencies; but Remus was, for tonight at the very least, an insomniac.

He'd watched the minutes tick by, sometimes closing his eyes for a half hour at a time and opening them again not to see the dreadful halls of the Department of Mysteries that usually haunted his dreams, but to see his watch's reflection in the moonlight. At three he finally slipped out from underneath the arm sprawled over his chest, pulled on a thin layer of clothing, and went outside to sit on the front stoop.

After a few minutes, the door creaked open behind him, and Tonks sat down beside him. "Good morning," she said softly.

"And to you," he said conversationally, leaning slightly forward to kiss her forehead.

"Can't sleep?"

"Nope."

"I'm sorry."

"It isn't your fault."

She paused. "Is it Sirius?"

Remus closed his eyes against the chilly night air. "I think it must be." The mood lay heavily upon the pair. Remus didn't like to see Dora so solemn, so he smiled and decided to voice his thoughts out loud for once. "He was a dreadful insomniac, you know."

She seemed sad and amused at the same time. "I didn't know that at all!"

"Oh yes. It was always worst in the spring, when it was warm enough to simply lie on the castle grounds without fear of hypothermia. He'd merely get up and slip as quietly as he could through the door, which wasn't often a very quiet procedure at all."

"I would imagine not, given a member of my family in a room full of sleeping people."

Remus smiled. "It continued even after Hogwarts, when he was kind enough to offer me a home once the Ministry had detected me. I used to hear the front door slam and hear him curse softly after it for making such a racket in the middle of the night." Remus snorted softly. "I never noticed it when we were both staying in Grimmauld Place last year, but he must have been going absolutely insane without being allowed to go outside for fear of detection."

Tonks hooked her arm around his and snuggled closer to him to keep herself warm. "He was in Azkaban for years. He probably got used to it."

Remus nodded solemnly. "That place tamed him, all right."

They sat in silence for a moment before Tonks suddenly stood, took Remus' hand, and led him out onto the small patch of lawn. She promptly lay methodically down on the grass and grinned at Remus, indicating that he join her. He did.

"Remind me," she asked him softly when he'd settled.

Remus smiled and extended an arm toward the sky as she rested her head on his other shoulder. "Right there."

"There?"

"There."

"That bright one?"

"Yep."

Dora chuckled. "Typical."

"Indeed."

Those were only two of the many things Dora absolutely adored about Remus: the way he brought her down to earth even when they were staring at the sky, and the way he said 'indeed' as often as possible.

"I wish I hadn't acted like I did for all those years," he said huskily, interrupting her thoughts.

"You mean thinking he killed the Potters when all evidence pointed to such an assumption?" Dora asked, plainly mocking his misplaced sense of sorrow.

"His best friend dies, another turns out to be the cause of it, and the third ignores him for twelve years."

"I'm sure he didn't blame you."

"I know he didn't. It is I, however, who continues to, even today."

"Do you think he blamed himself for thinking you were the Death Eater instead of Peter?"

"Absolutely."

"Didn't you consistently wish he wouldn't?"

Remus shook his head. "It wasn't about me, Dora, it was about James. He kicked himself in the same way that I did, and do, for not catching it. If we'd seen that darkness in Peter, James and Lily would be alive today, as would Sirius, and Harry wouldn't have been subjected to all these burdens he doesn't deserve."

Dora didn't have a response to that. Remus felt fully responsible for Harry since Dumbledore died and, along with the Weasleys, were worrying constantly about the boy's fate. The Order was forming a plan, but the plan only went so far. What happened to any of them was anyone's guess.

"I love you, Dora."

Tonks bit her lower lip, but couldn't dissuade her tears. Such an emotion had been implied since they'd gotten together, and even before, but this was the first time he'd said as much. "I love you, Remus," she returned after only a moment's pause.

Lupin laughed thickly. "I don't know why you do. I'm--"

"Strange and formal and perfect?"

"Well, I was going to say 'a poor scraggly man with nothing to offer such a beautiful and vivacious woman', but strange and formal do the trick."

"And perfect."

Remus smiled. "Two perfect people in a relationship? Unheard of. Not possible."

She had long ago foregone looking at the stars in favour of watching Remus' silhouette in the moonlight. Now she leaned up and kissed him softly before smiling at him and settling back against his chest, watching the stars in the clear night sky. "What are you thinking right now?" she asked abruptly but softly, not wanting to ruin the beauty of the moment with her usual clumsiness.

"Just thoughts."

"Enlighten me."

"Dreary thoughts."

"Endarken me, then," she insisted, pulling gently at his t-shirt.

Remus sighed. "What happens... after the rest of the Order dies off?"

"Oh, Remus," Tonks started, but stopped herself immediately, keen that she was actually getting him to open up.

He paused at her outburst, but understood how carefully she was listening and carried on. "Harry has lost his parents, his godfather, and now Dumbledore, his most important protector. Now there's only the Order, specifically Molly, Arthur and I, looking after him, and we both know we can't do a single justice to the other factors in his life that have now left him. Voldemort has... has bereft him of every support system in his life... except Ron, Hermione, and the Order. So what happens after we're gone?"

"We are not going anywhere, Remus Lupin," Tonks decided sternly, turning again to look at him. "You and I and the Weasleys and Harry and everyone are going to lead long, happy lives. We'll live to see the defeat of Voldemort. We'll be the cause of it, in point of fact. And Harry will be perfectly fine, and we'll be perfectly fine, and the Weasleys will be perfectly fine, and we'll all simply lie around being so dreadfully perfectly fine that we'll take up sewing in all our boredom, and be forced to start our own business to get rid of all our fantastically crafted pyjamas."

Remus paused only momentarily before bursting into an echoing spiel of laughter. Tonks grinned into his t-shirt and returned her gaze to the sky, not wanting the image of his laughing eyes to leave her mind as they would soon leave his face. "I don't know how to sew," he admitted.

"Neither do I. That's the appeal." She paused and, sensing Remus' continued anxiety over the matter, reverted to the initial topic. "But Remus, there will always be someone to look after Harry, whether we snuff it or not. And even if we do snuff it, which we won't, and there isn't anyone else, which there will be, then he's more than capable of looking after himself. He's proven that countless times."

Remus had no argument to this. "I just wish I knew what his plan was," he admitted.

"I know you do. Just let him do what he feels he needs to do, so that, if nothing else, he can be at peace."

Remus nodded slowly and closed his eyes momentarily. He always forgot how wonderful it was to talk to Dora; she made the rational part of his mind sound far too late on the uptake. But now tearstains were soaking his shirt; Dora sniffled in a manner she hoped was somewhat inconspicuous, and only made any other noise after Remus asked her what the matter was.

"I'm sorry you've lost so many people," she whispered, facing him again and bunching his shirt in her fist. "I'm so sorry."

"Oh, love, I'm all right," he reasoned lightly, stroking her hair affectionately. "I've got you, haven't I?"

"Indeed you have," she confirmed, using his favourite word against him.

"Then I imagine I'll be just fine."

They lay in bittersweet silence for a good half hour. Tonks eventually closed her eyes and soon stopped fidgeting; her sudden speech ten minutes later indicated, however, that she wasn't quite asleep. "Happy Deathiversary, Sirius," she whispered, eyes still closed, her words barely distinguishable over the birds' sudden welcoming of incoming dawn.

Remus nodded slowly. "Happy Deathiversary, Padfoot," he repeated. And there they lay until the sun rose, watching Sirius' bright disposition retreat slowly back behind the veil.


	6. Prompt 076: Baby

_December, 1979_

The first time had been in seventh year.

"Lily, let's have a baby."

"Right now?"

"Yes."

"James, we've been together two months. We haven't even slept together yet."

James perked up hopefully. "We could change that..."

"No, James."

Then that summer.

"Lily, I love you. Let's have a baby."

"I love you too, James."

He waited, grinning expectantly. "And...?"

"No."

Then last Christmas.

"Oooh, James, is that for me?" Lily squealed as she noticed the large box under the tree with her name on it. James only grinned and looked at the ceiling as though it was particularly interesting. She ripped the wrapping open and regarded the large object strangely. "It's a... it's an adorable... cradle." She regarded James with an incredulous expression. He was looking at her hopefully with a perfectly angelic expression. Realizing that it was a very sweet gesture on his part, she kissed him softly on the lips and said, "Not now."

James brightened. "That wasn't a vehement denial!"

"Wasn't it?" she asked coyly. The rest of the presents were opened later.

There had been little hints in between, but by now, James seemed to have given up begging. Maybe it was because they were in increasing amounts of danger, but he had seemed really stressed when Molly Weasley revealed she was pregnant with her sixth child a few months back. Not to the amount that Arthur was stressed out, of course, but Lily found that she and James were making more housecalls to the Weasleys' than they ever had before. When they were there, Molly and Lily gushed about the possibility it might be a girl while they puttered around in the kitchen, and James and Arthur talked in hushed voices in the sitting room, each looking very tired and stressed by the time dinner was ready.

So it was with extraordinarily nervousness that Lily slipped an envelope containing a small slip of paper on top of the pile of presents set at the foot of their bed on Christmas Eve.

Lily jolted awake when she heard James sit up in bed beside her the next morning. He looked over at her curiously, but she shut her eyes and hoped he thought she was still asleep. It seemed to have worked, because James only brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face and kissed her forehead softly, something he frequently did when he thought she was sleeping. Moments later, he reached for the envelope on the top of the pile and opened it with tentative curiosity.

There was no movement or sound for what seemed like minutes from James. Lily's heart was pounding in her chest hard enough that she was concerned James might be able to hear it from where he was sitting. Finally, the bedsprings shifted, and she felt a warm, protective arm slide around her waist and settle over her stomach.

"I like James II myself," he whispered, knocking some of her hair lightly aside with his breath.

She exhaled with relief and smiled. "You're mad," she told him. "I love you, but you're mad."

"Right, because 'Harry Potter' isn't a mad notion of a name for our son," he said, waving the note playfully in front of her face.

"What if it's a girl?" she asked him, finally opening her eyes and rolling onto her back to look at him.

James shook his head, unable to wipe the grin from his face. "He's definitely a boy." Lily smiled and rolled over once more, nestling her head against his chest. He instantly wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her lightly. "Oh, Lily, I'm so happy," he whispered.

"Are you?" she asked shakily, biting her lower lip in anticipation.

"God, yes." He swallowed hard.

"Are... are you worried?" she asked after a pause.

He hesitated. "No," he said finally.

She closed her eyes again and nodded. "Me too." 


	7. Prompt 312: Suicide

**A/N:**_ 1) This one's pretty canon. The dialogue in the middle is directly from Deathly Hallows and thus sadly is not my creation.  
2) The ending is intentionally cut off mid-sentence.  
_

* * *

_May, 1998_

Tonks hadn't been able to stand the gnawing pain of worry in her stomach. Remus had, of course, done the noble argument thing, told her to stay with Teddy, and then Disapparated to the Hog's Head. Alone. Without her.

Well, Kingsley was going there too, but Tonks was pretty sure _they_ didn't have a son together, and thus was not terribly comforted.

So she'd kissed Teddy lightly on the head, told her mother she was going out for some air, and Disapparated off to the Hog's Head right after him. 

"Ginny," she puffed once having gotten through the portrait hole against the flow of the evacuating student body. "What are you doing in here?" she asked confusedly, unable to help her curiosity.

"I've been ordered to stay out of harm's way," Ginny replied bitterly, angry tears still shining on her face.

"You too, huh?" Tonks said with a half-smile, glancing nervously toward the exit.

"So what are you doing here?" Ginny asked moodily, catching a hold of herself now that she had company.

Before Tonks had the opportunity to reply, the portrait swung open again and a surprisingly agile elderly woman sprung out of it and landed gracefully on the carpeting. She turned and said a few magical words to the portrait behind her; it glowed momentarily and then made a loud suction noise, as though sealed. "Where is my grandson?" she asked the two women in front of her demandingly.

"Left with the crusade," Ginny explained unhappily, though slightly more cheerful now that she had company. "Not sure what's happening beyond that, I've been banished here under the pretence of protection." She rolled her eyes.

There was a quiet creak at the top of the stairs as the passage door was opened and shut quietly. Three pairs of feet came clambouring down. All three of the Room's guests turned to regard the invaders; Ginny relaxed visibly as Harry's face became visible, followed by those of Ron and Hermione.

"Ah, Potter," said the elderly woman immediately. "You can tell us what's going on."

"Is everyone okay?" Ginny and Tonks asked together.

"As far as we know," Harry said hurriedly. "Are there still people in the passage to the Hog's Head?"

"I was the last to come through," said Mrs. Longbottom. "I sealed it, I think it unwise to leave it open now Aberforth has left his pub. Have you seen my grandson?"

"He's fighting," Harry said distractedly.

"Naturally. Excuse me, I must go and assist him." Harry watched her go, and caught Tonks' eye as he followed her path. He frowned.

"I thought you were supposed to be with Teddy at your mother's?"

"I couldn't stand not knowing," she said with a plea in her voice. "She'll look after him... have you seen Remus?"

"He was planning to lead a group of fighters onto the grounds," Harry said, and that was all she needed; she sprinted up the staircase, through the door and down the corridor. She skidded to a halt in moments, however; an all-too-familiar angry cry from the grounds had caught her attention. She ran to the half-smashed window and squinted into the night, trying to find her husband in the group of fighters below. Ginny rushed moments later to her side and began shouting curses at the hooded figures below; Tonks promptly followed suit, taking the jets of light as an advantage in finding Remus amongst the crowd.

Aberforth roared something behind her; she turned immediately, barely registering the faces of Harry, Ron and Hermione. Aberforth had finished whatever he was saying about giants; Tonks felt almost feverish in her rush to find her husband. "Have you seen Remus?" she yelled after him as he sprinted away with students in tow.

"He was duelling Dolohov, haven't seen him since!"

The pit in Tonks' stomach grew. She didn't even process Ginny's comment as she sprinted down the nearest staircase, desperate to reach the grounds.

She ran out into the grounds, searching desperately around, and finally she spotted him against a castle wall, the deep lines in his face emphasized by fury. He was still fighting Dolohov, but Remus clearly had the upper hand; his wizarding skills usually hidden by modesty showed clearly in the calibre of curses and counter-jinxes that came from the end of his wand. Dolohov was slouched over, and though he was putting up a fair fight, sounded exhausted and weak. Tonks hurried up behind him all the same and cursed him silently from behind; Remus' shocked face was illuminated by the light of the spell.

"Dora!" he shouted, caught offguard by her appearance on the field. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm helping you, Remus!" she shouted back, silently deflecting each one of Dolohov's spells with expertise. Remus was about to reply when he caught Bellatrix Lestrange out of the corner of his eye and turned to curse her before she had the chance to do the same to him.

"Go _home_, Dora!" he screamed between jets of light.

"I'm an Auror, Remus, I fight Dark wizards for a living! How can you expect me to sit at home, not knowing if you're alive or dead?" 

"I don't want our son to end up like Harry!" he screamed desperately, far too much emotion dominating his actions; his spells shot over Bellatrix's head and into the castle wall, causing a constant shower of pebbles and dust. "He needs to have a mother, if not a father!"

"He can have both!" Dolohov was fading fast, and she lessened her attentions. "I couldn't..."

But she faltered as his expression turned from anguish to fear; he left his own battle and leapt physically toward Tonks. A flash of green light shot from the end of Dolohov's wand, but Dora was already on her way to the ground.

"Remus," she whispered. He lay on top of her, unmoving. "Remus. Get up. Remus." She struggled momentarily but finally shrugged him off. He rolled over onto his back and didn't make a single movement; his eyes stared emptily up at her as she crouched over him and shook his shoulders. "Remus. _Remus_."

"He isn't getting up, girlie," Dolohov's cold tone came from above her, weak but pleased. "Now face me and meet your own doom."

With incredible speed and grace that she never would have ordinarily managed, Tonks spun to her feet, raised her wand swiftly and, ignoring the words spoken clearly behind her, brought it


	8. Prompt 013: Borrow

_April, 1976_

Lily could not believe this was happening. 

McGonagall was handing out the quizzes _right now_ and Potter was ruffling his stupid hair in the seat beside her _right now_ and Lily was searching frantically for a quill in her bag _right now_ and coming up so absolutely short that it excruciating.

"Remus," she hissed, checking over her shoulder reflexively to make sure McGonagall wasn't going to kick her out for cheating. Of Potter's stupid friends, Remus was the only one she could stand. At least he had a respectable study schedule. "_Remus_." She thought momentarily of taking off her shoe and flinging it at his head to catch his attention, but McGonagall was getting closer, and Lily didn't think either of them would take kindly to it. Plus Potter might actually appreciate it, and that was absolutely against every rule Lily followed.

"Professor," Lily said in her sweetest voice as McGonagall handed her the parchment. "You wouldn't happen to have an extra quill on hand, would you?" 

McGonagall shook her head sternly, but Lily saw a flicker of sympathy in her expression. "Sorry, Evans, you know the rules."

Lily nodded morosely until McGonagall passed, at which point she deflated in her seat and grabbed her bag with renewed desperation, searching through it.

"Evans," came the deep voice from her left. She squinted her eyes so hard that the only way she needed to pay attention to him was if he put his hand directly in her line of vision...

Just like that.

"Put the bag down, Evans, I'll lend you a quill," he said coolly, procuring a quill from his own bag even as he put hers down.

"Oh, you will, will you?" she spat, hair flying in every which direction as she shot her head up. Potter raised his eyebrows and recoiled only slightly at the look in her eye.

"Will I? I will! I'll lend you a quill," he replied jovially, and held the pure white quill at arm's length across the aisle.

"Oh, you're _so charming_ with your rhyming, I can hardly stand it." She crossed her arms with resolve and refused to take the instrument from his hand.

"Just take the ruddy quill, Evans," he whispered with a final glance at McGonagall, who was walking rather more slowly than usual toward the front of the room. 

"And what will become of my fate if I do?"

"You'll pass the test with flying colours, for one."

"And I suppose I'll be in your debt forever, will I?"

"Do you think you will? Now take the damn--"

"_Shut up_!" she hissed angrily. His rhyming was not helping matters.

"Look," he finally resigned. "If you want to borrow my quill, just ask." He placed it carefully down so that the feathers hung over the edge of the desk, moving gracefully in the slight air flow of the room. "There aren't any strings attached," he added, raising his hands in a surrendering motion. "I just wanted to do you a favour." 

"You have thirty minutes," McGonagall announced at the front of the classroom, drawing a large timer in the air with her wand and tapping the top. The seconds began to tick down. Lily panicked.

"All right, Potter, I'll take your stupid quill," she hissed and reached across the aisle. Unfortunately, his Quidditch reflexes were faster than hers, and he snatched it right out from under her fingertips.

"Remember when I said there were no strings? I lied," he said boyishly, grinning like the idiot he was. "You have to be gracious, Evans. I'm doing you a favour here. Show a little appreciation, will you?"

Lily clenched her teeth. "James," she choked out after moments of not-trying-to-kill-Potter ticked by. "May I _please_ borrow that _loving quill_?"

"Absolutely you may, Lily. Thank you for asking so politely." He handed the quill over with a wink and returned to his own parchment, smiling arrogantly as per usual. 

Lily finally turned to her quiz, trying to suppress the seething hatred that usually struck her when Potter was anywhere near her. By the time the half-hour had gone by, however, she felt rather calm. It was with a happy formality that she placed the last period and handed her test to McGonagall before filing out with the rest of the students.

Lily caught up to James halfway down the hall and handed him back the quill. "Thank you," she said with sincerity, forcing a half-smile.

Potter seemed to recognize that she was at least partially serious and half-smiled back at her. "Nah, you keep it. Suits you better anyway."

Lily raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. It's yours." And with a grin clearly intended to dazzle, James sprinted down the corridor to catch up with his friends.

"Evans," came McGonagall's voice from behind her. "May I have a word?"

Lily followed McGonagall back into the classroom. She held a strange formality about her as she leaned against the wall and beckoned to the nearest desk, indicating that Lily sit down. "Lily," McGonagall started. Lily immediately began panicking. McGonagall only used first names when something serious was going on. "I understand if... well... I always rather thought that..." McGonagall cleared her throat. "In any case, I am a bit concerned. I think it's rather in your best interest if you keep comments such as this off your schoolwork." McGonagall waved Lily's test around vaguely in front of her and regarded Lily with sympathy.

Lily was very confused. "Comments such as what?"

McGonagall half-smiled. "Your personal life is none of my concern. I merely think that if Potter is distracting you..."

"He isn't," Lily said suspiciously. "I mean, if you'd like to move him to the other side of the room, I won't stop you, but..."

"In the future, then, I can expect to see fewer... efforts along these lines?"

Lily frowned and, unable to stop herself, got up and stood beside McGonagall to peer at the parchment.

Each and every question had been answered, in Lily's neat writing, with "_I am going to marry James Potter_". Where there was a second line provided, the subtext read "_Lily Potter_" surrounded by tiny hearts.

"This is highly unusual procedure, but I am willing to let you write the test again," McGonagall said, "only perhaps we might place you in a less... obvious location this time." 

But Lily wasn't listening.

Lily was standing at the front of the room, eyes crazed, pulling each and every feather out of the quill with equal fervour and precision, plotting new and exciting ways to put Potter in a situation to die easily.

_Extremely easily._


	9. Prompt 302: Addict

_April, 1980_

Since Lily had become pregnant, James had been going out into the field alone.

Not _alone_ alone, of course; someone was always at his side, fighting with him. It was just that the someone wasn't Lily, and that made them _both_ feel like he was there alone.

Sometimes the other person didn't make it.

But James always came home, often drained and filthy, sometimes bearing the scars of recent injuries already healed up by Alice Longbottom. When he got home, he usually kicked off his shoes, opened the fridge, wolfed down some ghost of a meal, and flopped into bed, in that order. In the morning, he got up, often groaning or whimpering as quietly as possible, kissed Lily on the head, jumped into the shower, and was out the door before the sun even rose.

James had an addiction. He lived and breathed the fight.

Lily had an addiction, too.

Chocolate was probably the best tangible substance in the entire world. Everyone should eat chocolate all the time, Lily often thought, and did her best to make up for the rest of the world's deficiency in chocolate-eating each and every day.

It was all Remus' fault.

"Lily, it's all right," he'd said, crouched down in front of her during a meeting in which James and Kingsley were expected and never showed up to. "They are perfectly fine. James is extremely capable, and he's with a very talented Auror. They both just get caught up in the fight, as I'm sure you know very well already." But she'd kept on crying until he'd fished the chocolate bar out of his robes and broken off a large chunk if it, placing it in her hand. She'd looked down morosely at it before putting it in her mouth.

Stupid werewolf with his stupid fear of Dementors and stupid chocolate contingency that he carried around with him everywhere to make people feel better. Now she was twice as round as she ought to be.

It was far past midnight when James finally flopped into bed. He simply lay for a moment before strategically taking off his clothing so as to avoid most of his stiffness and settled down next to Lily, clearly exhausted.

"You're making me fat," she whispered through the lump in her throat.

"No, darling. Harry's making you fat," he replied sleepily, resting his hand on her stomach affectionately.

"Don't go out tomorrow," she begged him.

There was a pause. Then-- "I've got to."

"It's Sunday. We can sleep in and I'll make us pancakes."

He hummed happily at the thought. "That sounds good."

She turned to face him frustratedly. "No, James, don't humour me. I'm serious. Stay home tomorrow. One day, that's all I'm asking."

James' heavy eyes opened slowly to look deeply into hers. "Death Eaters don't take Sundays off."

"Apparently they don't ever take a day off."

"That's right."

Lily bit her lip in frustration. "I want to spend a day with my husband, James."

"And I would love nothing more than to spend a day with my wife. But I have to work to make the world safe, Lily. Kids are coming into the world. Arthur--"

"Has six sons, including a newborn, and a wife, and _he_ manages to find the time to go home every now and again."

"That's because he has six sons and a wife."

Lily didn't even acknowledge his joke. "And I mean less to you than Arthur's family means to him?"

"No! No, Lily... that's why I have to keep fighting. Make the world safe again."

"You keep saying that."

"Because it's true. We're on Voldemort's hitlist. There are Death Eaters looking for us everywhere. Thank Merlin for Peter is all I have to say, because without him we'd both be dead and I wouldn't be able to make the world safe for anyone anymore."

"Stop justifying your crusade for death with being alive," she spat bitterly, but he kept going.

"It's all for us, Lily. You, and me, and Harry, when he comes along. The world isn't safe for any of us while Voldemort's after us. If he's gone, we won't always have to be looking over our shoulder. Harry will be able to have non-paranoid parents. Hell, he might even make friends if we defeat Voldemort. Because otherwise, we're not going to want to leave this house out of fear that he'll take him just to avenge us."

Lily softened and looked into his eyes with her own teary ones. "Please, James. Evil can wait until Monday."

James didn't answer but pulled her close against him.

The next morning, after being greeted by half an empty bed when she woke up, Lily put more chocolate spread on her toast than usual. 


	10. Prompt 068: Smile

**A/N**: _For those of you who know my Teddy from _The Untamed Secret_, this is a very different boy. :)_

* * *

_December, 2012_

Victoire found Teddy very amusing.

Teddy found Victoire _exceedingly annoying_.

"C'mon," she prompted, grinning mischievously at him. "C'mon, just once." 

He remained silent and carried on trying to write his Potions essay.

"C'mon."

Teddy inked his quill.

"Oh, I get it. You're not going to just because I'm bugging you."

"Something like that."

"But you do do it, right?"

"Everybody does."

"Heh."

"You're about to say, 'would'a fooled me', weren't you?"

"Something like that," she grinned, eyes flashing. Teddy held her gaze momentarily before shaking his head hard and returning to his essay.

"Don't change your hair colour on me, mister. Green's your colour anyway." Teddy's ears turned red to match his hair, but moments later his hair reverted to a blueish-green. She grinned and paused. "Just... just once," she said again.

"Sorry." But a spark of amusement appeared in Teddy's eye; Victoire caught it, and her face pulled into an expression of surprise.

"Merlin," she muttered under her breath. "You've been... you rascal."

Teddy snorted, but kept a neutral expression. "You just called me a rascal."

"I know."

"I'm two years older than you."

"Don't change the topic."

"You're sitting here asking me the same question over and over while I'm trying to be responsible and do homework--"

"It's Christmas holidays, Teds. No one expects you to do anything except eat."

"--and you're just there, being an annoying twelve year old, asking me to... to..."

"Smile?" she prompted for him, showing him one of her own: a shy grin that spread over her entire face and made her look...

It was only unconsciously that Teddy unfroze his face and let his lips shift up and back into a slow grin.

She grinned and scrunched her nose at him. "You should smile more often. Brings out your eyes." She got up, pecked him on the cheek, and leaped out of the room and into the kitchen, speaking rapid French to her mother.

Teddy smiled for the rest of the night.


	11. Prompt 431: Cough

**A/N: **_For the only one of my friends who actually puts up with my fanfiction:  
_

_HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KATHLEEN!  
(...five. :D)  
_

* * *

_November, 1977_

Lily really had to pee.

Unfortunately, that seemed to be a feeling true amongst the female gender between classes today. She probably could have stood in the line-up on most days, but definitely not today.

There was never a line for the boy's loo. In fact, after a moment of furtive contemplation wherein she stood outside doing a bit of a dance, there didn't appear to be anyone at all in the boy's loo. So Lily, once checking the hall to ensure that no one was going to see her, dashed inside, ignored the odd smell coming from the urinals, and rushed into the nearest stall.

Lily had unfortunately forgotten that boys might come into the room _after_ she had. And wouldn't it be her luck that James Potter might be that boy.

He actually wasn't so bad anymore. Being given Head Boy (for whatever insane reason that was) seemed to have calmed him. They had an all-right working relationship; she realized it was her who kept it distant. They really could get along marvellously sometimes if she didn't shut down. And he only cursed people when being cursed at anymore. It was only ever defensive, too; no more upside-down-by-the-ankles or upper-lip-over-head spells since last year at the latest. 

Still, running into him in the boy's loo was not on her list of things she wanted to do. So, as quietly as possible, she lifted her feet up and stood, doubled-over, on the toilet seat, looking quietly at the floor as he did his business and washed his hands at the sink.

There was suddenly complete silence. She didn't hear his footsteps leaving. She rolled her eyes and assumed he was placing his hair in just such a way so that it would look as ridiculous as possible. She ventured a look out the crack between the wall and the door. He was, indeed, looking at himself in the mirror, but he was perfectly still, just staring sadly at himself. Finally he sighed, glanced around to make sure that there really wasn't anyone in the room, and put on a broad but obviously false grin.

"They're... having a ball in Hogsmeade over Christmas... Madam Puddifoot's, you know how it goes. Dumbledore, um, wanted us to, um, supervise... damn, no, you burke, not on the pretence of work, start simple, that's too much too soon, she still doesn't even seem to..." he trailed off. "Cheers, inner Moony," he muttered before clearing his throat and starting over with the same grin. "Listen, I'm tired of all this work. What say we move to... to Hogsmeade for a drink with Rosmerta?" He stopped and cursed again, and this time really _did_ start making his hair look its full potential of ridiculousness.

It was obvious that this was directed at Lily. She would probably have been very touched at what he was saying, and might momentarily consider casually flying out of the stall and strolling by as though she _hadn't_ been there listening to him the entire time in the boy's loo and had only just noticed him.

Unfortunately for them both, Lily's throat chose this time to become extremely scratchy, and most of her energy was going toward not coughing.

"Why is this hard, Potter?" he asked himself in the mirror. "You've asked her out a hundred times and always meant it. Just because you happen to care more than ever and that she happens to be more amazing than you thought, doesn't mean--"

His head snapped up and looked around the bathroom through the mirror. Lily cringed. She had coughed, and he had heard it, and as coughs go, it was absolutely the most girly one she could ever have made. Now they were catching each others' eyes in the mirror and--

"Lily?" he croaked, mortified enough to forget that she wasn't supposed to be in the boy's loo.

Lily panicked. "N-No," she said in the deepest voice she could muster. Then--"Bugger off."

"Lily, I can see your hair."

She cursed. "Being a redhead isn't as fun as some people think." She stepped down from the toilet seat and stepped slowly and sheepishly toward James. He kept looking at her through the mirror.

"Er... how long have you been..."

"Since you first walked in," she said, but immediately reddened and added hastily, "but I've only been watching since you started talking."

Oh, well-played, Evans. That wasn't at all an awkward thing to say.

James finally clued in that she wasn't supposed to be here and willingly shifted his mortification onto her, grinning as she hid her face in her hands. "Line-up, huh?"

Lily nodded and didn't look up.

"It's all right," he said. "Sometimes when I'm wandering around the castle and it's late and there's no one around and I need a loo, I go into the girls' just to see if it's nicer." He paused and shut his eyes at his own idiocy. "But... ah... not in a... perverted way."

But Lily had looked up and began to laugh in short bursts of giggles. James chuckled nervously along after a moment.

"Can we... not be in the loo anymore?" she asked between giggles.

"Oh." He sounded surprised. "Yeah, of course." He started immediately toward the exit.

"Er..." she stopped short and he looked back. "What if people see me?"

He scratched his chin in contemplation. "Well, I know you won't like this plan much, but we can pretend to be a couple and--"

"No," she said immediately.

"Then I don't know how to help you. Sorry."

Lily looked at James and thought. Her options were:  
-Appear as though she was dating him and have everyone think she'd have a quickie with him in the boy's loo, or  
-Appear as though she'd have a quickie with him in the boy's loo and _not_ appear as though she was dating him, and have everyone think she was trampish.

So she suddenly took James' hand, found that she didn't need to force a blush, and pushed through the loo door, dragging him behind her.

James quickly caught stride with her and tried to suppress his embarrassed grin as they walked down the corridor and to their class, hands clasped as they went. Some people broke into murmurs as they caught sight of the couple; Sirius had broken into enthusiastic applause, quickly echoed by Peter as they sat down in desks beside each other and finally broke grip. After class, James grinned fleetingly at her and left the room without another word.

It wasn't until later that Lily remembered that James carried an Invisibility Cloak with him at all times.


	12. Prompt 096: Confiscate

_March, 1978_

"My life is over," James stated morosely.

"_Your_ life is over?" Sirius wailed. "Prongs, how am I going to know where to hide when Filch is chasing me down the hall? How will I know how to get into the kitchens? Into Hogsmeade? _Prongs, how will I know where Transfiguration class is without finding McGonagall's dot first?_"

"We all know the map off by heart," Remus said resignedly, not looking up from his book. "And you should ruddy well know where McGonagall's classroom is after nearly seven years of taking her class."

"It's hard to find!" Sirius objected.

"It's in the same place every time you go to it."

"Yeah, but I'm usually looking at the map to make sure I'm heading in the right direction and I never pay proper attention to--"

"Liiiiiily," James moaned, drowning Sirius out effectively. "Why did this have to happen?"

"I'm sure we'll survive, James," she said, her tone patronizingly hopeful as he rested his head on her shoulder. She played with his hair and exchanged an amused look with Remus.

"How did it happen?" Peter asked with an expression of awe on his face. He seemed to be in complete shock.

Sirius sighed heavily. "I'd like to take this opportunity to point out that if James hadn't been so busy talking to Lily about her boobies, none of this would have happened."

"Pads, you burke, we were talking about _crests_. For Hogwarts robes."

"I know what I heard."

"Actually, I'd like to know what happened, too," Remus decided suddenly, looking up from his text with interest, a small smile on his face. Lily had caught his eye and was making very subtle but very amusing faces behind James' disheartened gaze. He supposed it was a rather typical James story, but paid him close attention anyway. Unfortunately, it was Sirius who piped up first.

"Well, Prongs and Lily were talking about--"

"CRESTS."

"--and Dumbledore was brought into the conversation for some reason, so PRONGS, like the great wanker he is, decided to take the map out and make everything appear to look for Dumbledore."

"Then Filch comes around the corner," Lily prompted quietly, smiling, having already heard the story quite a few times. Sirius scowled at her.

"Would you please have a little respect for the narrative flow?"

"Sorry." She pretended to look sheepish but shot Remus a grin as soon as Sirius had looked away. Remus returned the grin willingly.

"Then Filch comes around the corner," Sirius echoes. "And Prongs stops short and bloody hands _me_ the parchment."

"I'm Head Boy, I can't be caught with something like that. Although I wish I'd kept it now," he added in an undertone, still moping, now hugging Lily's knee as she sat cross-legged.

"I did what I could! It's not like I knew you were going to hand it to me and that _I'd_ have to come up with a plan."

"You floated it out of Filch's reach, folded it magically into a paper airplane, and flew it _right into his eye_," James reminded him frustratedly.

"I thought it was going to go further than that," Sirius argued, defeated.

Remus' gaze turned from Lily to Sirius. "Padfoot, why didn't you just keep it in the air?"

"He could get it if it was standing still, couldn't he?" Sirius replied bitterly, not keen on being blamed for the loss of the precious Marauders Map they'd created themselves.

"No, he couldn't," Remus said. "He's a Squib."

Sirius' face was disbelieving. "Naaaaah," he said after a long while, batting the air as though sending Remus' notion toward the ground. He looked to Lily, generally regarded as the Moony back-up if there's ever a conflict of information. Lily looked grim and nodded.

"It's true," she confirmed. "Flitwick 'accidentally' let it slip in class a few years back."

"Of course, this was just after Filch had confiscated Flitwick's fanged frisbee that he was examining to figure out what made it bite only when one tried to catch it," Remus explained.

"So all this time, we've been gallivanting about, avoiding Filch... when all we really had to do was curse the bejesus out of him and go on our merry way?" Sirius asked incredulously.

"Pretty much," Remus confirmed, but immediately looked sheepishly at Lily, who was giving him a disapproving gaze for encouraging his cursing habits.

"Well that's bloody brilliant," Sirius said sincerely, grinning from ear to ear. "Prongs, let's go confiscate our map back."

But James wasn't listening. "Your knee has dimples," he commented to Lily, looking at the knee he had just been resting his head on.

"Well-spotted," Lily said affectionately.

"They're cute. Not as cute as the ones in your cheeks, but definitely cute."

"Why thank you, Mr. Prongs," she cooed, kissing him softly on the mouth.

Sirius pulled a face and couldn't leave the common room fast enough. "Wormtail, let's go confiscate our map back," he demanded as he left. Peter looked up as though just waking up and followed Sirius through the portrait hole. "Moony!" Sirius shouted from the corridor moments later. "Let's go confiscate our--"

But the Fat Lady had decided to swing closed, and the rest of Sirius' sentence wasn't heard.

Remus had already retreated quietly upstairs anyway, heavy textbook in hand and an involuntary frown on his face. Usually he could cope with James and Lily's public displays of affection, but other times it was just too much.

Remus didn't sleep so well that night. He kept having that recurring dream where _he_ had been made Head Boy instead, and where Lily was kissing _him_ for noticing the dimples in her knees.


	13. Prompt 016: Peace

_May, 1998_

The sun was setting when Harry got up. He took a look at the robes he hadn't bothered to shed before sleep and found that they were filthy, torn, and, in some places, soaked with blood. He gingerly undressed and, after a moment's contemplation, put on fresh Muggle clothes. He felt like he'd had enough of wizarding for a while.

Even so, he put on his Invisibility Cloak without a moment's hesitation before slipping out the portrait hole.

The Great Hall was clear of bodies when he passed. He didn't know what had happened to them, but he caught sight of Professor McGonagall and noticed she, along with other members of the Order, looked absolutely exhausted, emotionally and physically. He tried to ignore the pang of guilt in his gut as he walked out onto the grounds and immediately lay down on the tall grass under his favourite willow tree in front of the lake.

"Mind if I sit?"

Harry whipped around and regarded Ginny, who was looking directly at where his head had lain moments ago. "How did you know I was here?"

"This is your favourite spot to be when you're looking for peace," she said, peering around nervously, trying to figure out where she should be looking as she addressed him. "I noticed the flattened grass and took a guess. Can I sit?"

Harry took off the Cloak as he sat up and nodded. Ginny was shocked at how old he looked, but kept a neutral expression as she sat down cross-legged across from him. She didn't realize that Harry was thinking the same thing about her. "How are you?" he asked her after a moment's awkward pause.

"Dreadful," she whispered, looking out into the lake. There was a light breeze that knocked her red hair away from her face and made her radiant despite her sadness. Harry blushed and tried to remember that they weren't together anymore. "You?"

He hesitated. "About the same," he eventually stated quietly. She finally made eye contact with him and he held it for a long time before finally turning and staring out into the water.

"You can't fathom this, can you?"

"No, I can't." Normally his voice would be fierce, not with Ginny, but because her words were just so true. Not understanding things usually left Harry cranky. Today he just felt empty.

A soft hand slipped over his. "There will always be evil," she whispered to him, and cracked a smile. "You're not off the hook quite yet."

Maybe it was that she'd voiced what he hadn't been able to understand in twelve words or less, but he kissed her and found he couldn't stop for a long time.

"I promised Ron I wouldn't do that again," he finally muttered embarrassedly, not actually caring terribly much.

"Ron can--" She faltered to silence and just looked at Harry with sadness and exhaustion in her eyes. He cupped her face with his hand and whispered to her just as she had done.

"There will always be peace." He swallowed hard. "I promise you, Ginny, wherever you are, there will always be peace."

They sat together for a long time, ignoring the encroaching twilight, neither one saying a word. When Hermione finally found them the next morning, she swept the Invisibility Cloak over their sleeping figures and reported back to Ron that she'd come up short.  



	14. Prompt 051: Restaurant

_December, 1979_

James was staring at Lily. He continued to do so even as he wrapped the pasta around his fork and brought it up to his mouth. And then he chewed and stared. And swallowed and stared. And twirled his fork around in the pasta and--

"James for Merlin's sake."

And swallowed and stared. "Yes?"

"Usually it's sweet when you look at me for extended periods of time, but this is just creepy."

And stared and grinned and wasn't he handsome, even if he did have spaghetti sauce in the corners of his mouth. "It's just that I can't take my eyes off of you is all..."

"I know what you're doing."

And stared and nodded innocently. "I'm eating. Most people do it daily." And stared.

Lily sighed. "I'm feeling under the weather. You know that."

"Yes but this food is made by people who can actually cook."

Lily smiled vaguely. "James, I love your cooking."

And stared and looked confused. "Really?"

"Yes, love."

"Then I'm confused."

"I can tell by how sideways you're holding your head."

James straightened his head and looked down at his plate (finally). "You've been feeling under the weather for weeks."

"I know." Despite her persistent nausea, Lily sawed a piece off of her extremely expensive charbroiled chicken and took a hearty bite to satisfy James' concern.

"You don't have to eat for me," he said quietly.

"No, no. It's good. Really. Mmmm," she said, rubbing her stomach (though more to calm the storm raging within it than in appreciation of the food).

"A bit over the top to be convincing, Lil, even for me."

She winced. "I'm sorry. I..." she paused. Her eyes bulged. James leaped to his feet.

"Are you okay?"

Lily hummed in fervent contemplation before she, too, sprang to her feet and rushed off to the bathroom.

James plunked down, defeated and worried. He sat for a moment to calm himself down, grabbed a glass of water from a passing tray, and went to stand in what he hoped was a casual-looking manner outside the women's loo.

"Thank you," she croaked when she came out, gratefully grabbing the glass with a shaky hand and taking small sips. James put his arm around her.

"At least your hair was tied back today."

She snorted lightly against closed eyes and snuggled into his chest as they walked slowly back to their table. "I'm sorry about this."

"Because it's absolutely your fault. I am shocked and disappointed, Lily."

"I do eat, James, during the day. I have a good breakfast and a better lunch. It's only around this time of day when I get sick."

James squeezed her tightly out of momentary guilt. He was never around during the day, and had thus really thought she wasn't eating at all. "Maybe you're a reverse vampire," he joked.

Lily snapped her fingers. "That's probably it. Except instead of being afraid of the night, it makes me violently ill. All makes sense now."

"The moon does funny things to some people, you know. Lupin gets very cranky when it's full."

"Mm. Maybe I've been spending too much time around him." Her eyes widened. "Whoops maybe I wasn't supposed to mention that."

James' eyes widened in turn. "You know, I've been thinking about severing my friendship with Remus lately."

"Har har. You'd sooner die, James Potter, no matter how jealous you might be without cause."

James smiled. "Damn, you know me too well to take me seriously." They stopped and stood in front of their table. "How are you doing?" he asked her quietly.

"Okay," she decided. She nodded curtly. "Better."

"Feel like finishing?"

Lily stared at her plate. "I appreciate the dinner, James, so much..."

"But?"

"But I think right now I'd really prefer it if you would take me home and make me a grilled cheese sandwich."

James grinned, left what he hoped was enough Muggle money on the table, and took her hand as they walked out the door. "I love that you make me grilled cheese," Lily mused.

"I love that you love grilled cheese." He kissed her on the forehead before they turned simultaneously and disappeared into the night.  



	15. Prompt 019: Crazy

**A/N: **_This weekend I discovered that Kathleen _isn't _the only one of my friends who puts up with my fanfiction! This is my certifiably lame-ass belated birthday present to Risa. I wish I had more to give you, dear, I'm sorry. Merry reading._

_This is an interpretation of the scene from OotP. Some of the dialogue/setting etc. is not mine. Well, most of this isn't mine. The fun is mine! That's something.  
_

* * *

_December, 1995_

Neville wondered sometimes if his parents were still sane in there somewhere.

His parents, on all accounts, appeared to be perfectly crazy. Anyone who knew about it would decide that this fact probably explained his poor wizardry, why he couldn't learn anything properly. Maybe he was going crazy, too. Maybe the stories about their being tortured into insanity were all platitudes to mask him from the truth. Maybe they just went crazy naturally. Maybe he was doomed to go down the same path.

Maybe he already was crazy and was too crazy to know it. Like them.

But maybe they weren't that crazy after all. They glanced simultaneously at each other at certain intervals. Neville often thought he saw affection in their eyes. But then they'd flap their arms about wildly or do something else similarly irrelevant, and Neville would remember that they were in this ward for a reason.

"Neville's still doing wonderfully in Herbology," his grandmother was saying to his parents. "Although I daresay his other marks could be a slight better, his Defence Against the Dark Arts is going up a touch. Perhaps someday Neville will do well enough to... well. Time will tell, won't it, Neville?"

"Yeah," he said dully.

His grandmother's eyes burned a hole through him. He was expected to say more. He sighed and obliged.

"Harry, Ron and Hermione are doing well. We... we meet often. I've also made friends with a girl named Luna. She's quite odd, but she's... really nice." He glanced up from the floor. Frank was staring at him with wild eyes. Alice had cocked her head almost completely sideways. Suddenly she got out of her bed and wandered over to that of her husband's; she sat on the end and patted his leg affectionately. He reached forward and took her hand. Both of them stared at him expectantly.

Neville understood the indication and let his gaze return to the floor. "Ginny's good too, mum," he mumbled.

"Well, Happy Christmas," his grandmother proclaimed loudly. She thought he was silly to interpret his mother's actions as coherent, and generally ended the visit as soon as he did. He followed his grandmother's lead and kissed each of his parents on the cheek. Alice exchanged a glance with Frank and started after Neville as he and his grandmother headed toward the door.

"And--oh, Mrs. Longbottom, are you leaving already?" a Healer asked Alice as she passed, hastening toward her. Neville didn't look back until--

"Neville!"

Neville jumped and resisted the urge to obliterate a hole in the floor and step conveniently through it down to the next level. He felt like he may actually have been able to do it, too, given the chance. Instead he turned slowly to regard Ron, who was looking pleased to see him. Harry was beside him, and beside Harry were Hermione and Ginny, looking confused. Neville blushed under Ginny's gaze and tuned out of whatever conversation was going on._  
_

_I don't want to be here_, he thought dully. _I'm sure gran is going to make it sound like I belong here with them for all the talent I lack. Or perhaps here instead of them. I wish they were... no. No, that isn't right. I'm glad for who they are, and were, and I'm proud of what they stand for. I'm not ashamed._

"I'm not ashamed," he repeated out loud. His grandmother kept talking. Neville kept thinking. A soft tapping at his shoulder was the only thing to interrupt his thoughts. 

"Again? Very well, Alice dear, very well... Neville, take it, whatever it is," his gran said.

Neville followed the odd indications his mother was giving. He glanced at her, then momentarily at Ginny before blushing again and letting Alice drop a gum wrapper into his hand. "Thanks, mum," he said quietly. She turned away and hummed the vague tune of one of Celestina Warbeck's Christmas songs as she returned to her bed.

---

As Frank chewed his daily dose of Droobles' the next day, he tottered over to Alice's bed, kissed her on the head, and handed her the wrapper, as was usual custom. She grabbed his hand affectionately as she took the paper and put it under her mattress with the rest.

---

Ginny was perplexed by the presence of a wrinkled sweet paper on her pillow when she returned to Hogwarts. She asked her nearest dormmates about it, but no one seemed to know why it was there. Shrugging and considering with a smile the notion of a house-elf Christmas party, she crumpled it into a ball and threw it in the trash.


	16. Prompt 010: Think

_June, 1977_

Even though she was pretty inebriated, Lily thought James was pretty much the most repulsive bloke in the whole wide wizarding world. 

She hated the stupid way his hair stood up on all ends all the time. What was that about, anyway? What possible rational person would want their hair to look like that? She also hated the way his jaw was so angular and... and... imperfectionless. No one has jaws like that anymore. Except sharks. They have jaws. So says the Muggle film. But even so, never like that. It just didn't make sense. She didn't like his glasses, either. They made him look intelligent, which he _most clearly_ was not. See, there was proof right there in front of her. James was dancing (rather well, actually) with Sirius because they successfully saturated a pastry with green paint that would explode into one's face upon being bitten into. Smart people don't do any of the above things. They might dance, but not that well. Smart people can't dance. Lily was living proof. Sure, he was still working with magic even after exams were over, and sure, it probably took some pretty nice wand work on his part to make the illusion of an apple pastry even if he did have those big, strong hands (which weren't at all even remotely attractive) that actually held the wand surprisingly well considering their difference in size, but it was_ James_. Ugh. He was just...

"Hey, Evans!" 

...standing directly in front of her. She wondered when that happened.

Also his smooth and gravelly voice was _so_ not attractive.

"Want a pastry?" 

"I can see you over there, Potter. You're not intelligent. I saw you fill it with paint."

He grinned a punched her good-naturedly on the shoulder. She nearly tumbled over despite already having been leaning against the wall. "Har har har. You're so clever, Evans, even when you've had too much Butterbeer."

"Speak for yourself, oh-non-intelligent-one."

"I have not had too much Butterbeer, I have had too much Firewhiskey. There is a fundermental difference."

"Either way, you are drunk and not intelligent."

"Either way, you are beautiful _and_ intelligent."

"Don't tempt me into... into..." Ummmm... 

"Kissing me?" He waggled his stupid perfect eyebrows and batted his stupid thick eyelashes and looked at her with his stupid hazel puppy-dog eyes that were just like _windows into his soul_ and--

Think, Evans. Think of a comeback. Think think think think... 

"No... not that."

Oh, well done.

James grinned a stupid grin with perfect teeth and lots and lots of annoyingness. "I will let the fact that your refusal sounded less unenthusialstic than usual slide simply because we've had too much drink. Also I will go over there and let you continue on describing me out loud. Maybe as I'm walking back you can talk about how my arse is perfectly toned and how no one has an arse quite like mine these days except Muggle underwear models but really, how is that relevant to how intelligent my glasses make me look and how smooth and gravely my voice is?"

_Oh God._

Evans. Think, damnit! Think think think think think think think...

"Your hair is actually quite smashing sometimes."

James grinned a stupid perfect grin. "I know, love."

"Don't call me that." And then, "I hate you."

James nodded soberly, and Lily wondered for the first time if he'd really had very much Firewhiskey after all. "I can wait."

Lily didn't know what that meant, but she definitively did not look at James Potter's bottom as he walked back across the common room.

* * *

**A/N: **_The spelling errors in James' dialogue are intentional. :)_


	17. Prompt 405: Lament

_October, 1980_

When Lily walked in, the table was beautifully set. Candles were burning bright upon the table. Sweet, thick aroma filled the air. Steaming platters were placed at strategic locations upon the table for easy serving access. A bouquet of flowers was set in the centre, just to top everything off.

This did not surprise Lily for two reasons.  
1) It was her wedding anniversary. Such a scene is almost expected.  
2) She was the one who had set the table, made the meal and bought the flowers.

The person it was _supposed_ to surprise was not home at seven as he was supposed to have been. Nor was he home at seven-fifteen. Nor was he home at seven-thirty, when the aroma started to fade. Nor was he home at eight, when the first candle went out. He was home, in fact, shortly after nine, covered in mud and scratched all over.

Lily almost kicked him and kissed him simultaneously when he came home. He was alive, happy, jovial, and oh-so-apologetic about being late and wasn't fighting evil such a demanding job. He didn't seem to realize either that being two hours late when fighting Death Eaters is an effective way to kill your wife with worry; nor did he seem to realize that it was their wedding anniversary until he walked into the kitchen and found the fantastic meal sitting in the fridge.

"Lily, you lovely darling, you've made pudding! I haven't had pudding since our wedding, and that was... that... was... ohhhhhhh."

"Forgotten?"

James shook his head immediately and put on the pair of eyes he used to use when he was in trouble with McGonagall. "No, love, of course not. I'm just so sorry I wasn't here to eat your fantastic meal with you."

"It's fine," she said, unable to hide the stiffness in her voice.

"No, it's not," he said softly, slipping his hands around her waist and pulling her into a hug. "But I swear to you, I hadn't forgotten. In fact, the reason I was late was because I was writing a song for you."

Despite herself, Lily laughed. "You write songs?"

"'Course I do! Well, with a bit of help from Padfoot I do."

"_Padfoot_ writes songs?"

"Have you honestly never heard one? He could be a rock star if he wasn't so busy fighting evil with us."

Lily nodded skeptically, eyebrows raised. "I'm sure."

"Really."

Lily hummed impressively. "Well, he's got the hair for it."

"And the voice. But enough about Padfoot and his sexy dulcet tones."

"Yes, I'd like to hear this song you so graciously wrote for me while you were out getting attacked by Imperiused rodents."

"Not while, before."

"Mmhmm."

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Because we can move into the living room if you..."

"I'm ready, James."

"What about Harry? We don't want to wake him up. You probably just got him down..."

"I put him to bed at six. He won't sleep through the night anyway. He may as well wake up to the sounds of his father's singing voice."

James hesitated, took a deep breath, and started singing in a low tone.

"_Lily, my love, we were married today,  
But it was last year, just on the same day.  
Now we have Harry, and he is amazing.  
Also you're pretty; you're downright stun...nazing.  
I am such a jerk, I missed your nice meal;  
You have no idea how stupid I feel.  
But I love you still, and now here today,  
I'm wondering if you still feel the same way_."

Lily was extremely impressed. As it turns out, she had married a man with an incredible singing voice, who stayed on key and everything. She kissed him when he had finished. "Of course I do, you goose," she whispered, "even if you do make up stories about writing songs with Sirius."

"No! I really did write that this afternoon at 1:41."

"You predetermined that you would be required to lament your missing my meal before it happened?"

James frowned and thought back. "Oh, balls."

"Well-improvised, though."

"You'd think after years of getting into trouble and subsequently getting out of it, I'd have thought this through."

"You'd think." Lily kissed him again and wrapped her arms around his middle.

"I didn't forget, Lily," he said quietly.

"Okay."

When Lily pulled back the covers of her bad later, a small white box was sitting on her pillow. The removal of the cover yielded a gold bracelet, with an inscription in beautiful cursive on the inside:

_For Lily: my wife, my love, my everything._

For that, James was adequately tackled.  



	18. Prompt 365: Rivalry

A/N: Whaaaaat? I updated?  
It's a temporary change, I assure you. At least until exams are over.  
I'm not necessarily pleased with this one. The characters feel a bit... lacking. Plus I got a bit Captain Capslock in places because I was just so excited to be writing. Hopefully it's all right.  
Thanks for reading, guys. Sorry I'm such a Non-update Nelly.

PS: Is anyone else having trouble formatting on this site at the moment?

* * *

May, 1976 

Lily was sitting on a swivel chair in the corner of the common room, parchment held out in front of her. Books splayed around her in a circle in alphabetical order, open to important pages so she could merely spin around to get the information she wanted. This was how she and Remus (who was actually quite a decent bloke. Why he was friends with Potter and Black was anyone's guess) were spending many of their evenings lately; OWLs were only a couple of weeks away, after all, and _most people_ were studying.

James bloody Potter, on the other hand, was intermittently giggling with and exploring the mouth of this week's redhead in front of the fireplace. Loudly.

The crazed expression in Lily's eyes must have been getting evident.

"If you'd rather move to the library..." Remus suggested meekly after she punched a hole in the parchment with her quill.

"No. It's fine."

A pause. "Would you like me to ask them to—"

"Let's practice disarming."

Remus' expression flashed alarm. "Perhaps we should start with cheering charms."

"Disarming. Now."

Okay, thought Lily, maybe referring to her as _this week's_ redhead was a bit harsh. In fact, it was the only girlfriend Potter had ever obviously had. Maybe there were others, but she usually tried to pay as little attention as possible to what or who Potter was doing. _Expelliarmus_. Besides, the girl didn't matter. It was the fact that he was being_so incredibly public _about it. ...At OWL time. _Expelliarmus._ It was incredibly distracting, and frankly it was _disrespectful_. Just because he was an incredible slacker who would never amount to anything, didn't mean the rest of them didn't have to study._Expelliarmus_. But then, that was Potter for you: always the arrogant, _expelliarmus_, bullying, _expelliarmus_, toerag—

"Lillyyyyy," Remus cried tiredly, holding up a hand. Lily jolted back to reality and saw him blown back against the far wall of the common room, wandless and looking as though she'd just served him a series of concussions. Which she had.

"Oh, Merlin, Remus I'm sorry," she said, rushing over to him to help him to his feet. "I don't know what I was thinking about, I'm so sorry..."

"It's... it's fine," he said, wincing and massaging the back of his head. "Can I have my wand back now?"

She looked down in her left hand to notice Remus' wand. "Er. Yeah," she said sheepishly, handing it to him. "I'm so so so sorry. You're, um, welcome to disarm me into the wall if you'd like," she offered, smiling slightly.

Remus cracked a smile and shook his head. "That's all right. I'll settle for gloating more than usual when I do better in exams than you."

Lily smirked. "Uh-huh. I'm sure."

Remus grinned and started back toward their circle of books, but was caught by sudden dizziness and began to slump over. Lily, fortunately quick on the uptake and also inordinately strong, caught him before he fell too far. "Oh-kay, mister Lupin, that's enough excitement for you for a while I think," she puffed as she helped him to the nearest chair.

"I concur," he said wearily, though smiling. "I guess—"

"MOONY MAY I HAVE A WORD WITH YOU."

Remus cocked an eyebrow and looked just past Lily to make eye contact with James, who had detached himself from the redhead and was looking with extremely wide eyes at his friend. Lily turned and regarded him with raised eyebrows and crossed arms.

"Feel free to yell a bit louder Potter, I'm not sure everyone in the Slytherin common room heard you."

James' expression was venomous. "Like you were really studious with your blowing Moony against the wall."

"At least I study."

"I don't need to study, Evans. Call it natural talent."

Lily frowned. Ordinarily, James would have thrown in a few declarations of affection and a handful of date requests by this point of the conversation. "Sadly, Potter, I don't think you'll be tested on sucking face."

The smile spread veeeeery slowly across James' face. "So you admit I'm a good kisser."

"What?" asked the redhead loudly.

Lily kicked herself mentally and changed tacks. That wasn't... what she'd meant. "When have we ever kissed outside of your sadistic dreams?"

"That time you 'tripped' on your way to the Great Hall and happened to land—"

"You had one of your friends trip me under that ridiculous Cloak of yours. You happened to position yourself just so..."

"You kissed back."

"_It wasn't a kiss, _and... I... did no such thing." This was not going how Lily wanted it to. Oh, yep, there was the blush creeping into her cheeks. Good show, Evans. Well done.

"James, is this true?" the redhead squeaked.

"Not now, Amanda," he said, waving a hand dismissively.

"Yes, not now, Amanda," Lily repeated in a mocking tone.

"Listen, Evans," James started again in a cooler tone. "I'm sorry that you thought you had to employ Moony here to pretend to be in love with you just to make me jealous—"

"WHAT?" Remus asked loudly.

"But I've got Amanda now, and she's... well, she's far less _flighty_than you are, so you're just going to have to live with not being the centre of my attention anymore."

"HE'S JOKING," Remus proclaimed.

A cruel smile flickered across Lily's face. "Yes Potter. That explains the note you had a house-elf place on my pillow last night."

"Whaaaat?" Amanda whined.

"She's joking," James assured her.

"I REALLY DON'T KNOW WHY HE SAID THAT," Remus persisted.

"_Dearest Lily,_" she quoted in a sarcastically dreamy tone. "_I cannot place into words how I feel about you, but I'll be damned if I don't try._"

"That wasn't me, Evans, I don't write like that."

"_Everything about you is intoxicating in the most marvellous way possible. There are occasions where I can't think straight for how much your beauty dazzles me._ Et cetera. Et cetera."

James frowned. "You memorized it?"

"JAMES YOU SILLY TOSSER WHY DO YOU MAKE SUCH JOKES."

Lily ignored Remus and blushed. "My memory retention is on overdrive, okay? It's a side effect of _studying._ Plus it was so needlessly extravagantly written it was laughable."

"..._Needlessly_ extravagant?" Remus croaked.

To Lily's surprise, James didn't make a snide reply as was usual custom. He merely stared at Lily for a moment, then at Remus, then back at Lily before suddenly launching from his chair and striding across the room toward the stairs to the dorms.

"Oh,_sorry_, Potter, did I offend your declaration of so-called affection?" she asked as he strode toward her, though, despite her tone, she actually felt somewhat badly.

James kept walking and didn't reply. It struck her too late that it wasn't the _dorms_ he was heading toward, but _her._ Before she could stop him, he tilted her head up lightly and caught her lips in his own; by the time she realized what was going on, he'd punched Remus on the shoulder and left the common room.

She stood still for a long time, puckering lightly at the air. "Ungh," she stated eventually.

"Ungh," Remus echoed, massaging his shoulder and looking severely disheartened.

"Ungh!" cried Amanda as she scurried into the dorms.

Remus cleared his throat lightly. "Shall we call it a night?"

"Yes, I think so," she replied flatly without looking at him.

"Right then. Goodnight, Lily."

"Goodnight."

Lily ignored James more than usual the next day.

James and Moony kept their distance for a while after that.


	19. Prompt 123: Bleach

**A/N: **_It's always a bit perplexing when I update, I know.__ Unfortunately I doubt I'll be making a habit of it. School is... lots.  
_

_This one's in a bit of different style from the others. It has more needless detail than many of the others, and has less direct Lily-James contact, but I do so enjoy the Marauders. Peter is not included just because it was awkward to fit him in. Perhaps he's on a vacation somewhere._

* * *

_January, 1976_

James was close to tears.

"Prongs, mate, she's just one redhead," Sirius was lamenting, trying miserably to sound sympathetic as he twirled a quill around absently.

"She's_not_!" James wailed for perhaps the thousandth time. "She's so much more. She's... she's..."

"Sucking face with a Hufflepuff—"

"Sirius, enough," Remus cut him off, pushing Sirius aside. But too late; James had looked up with a quivering chin and was now looking at Remus with wide and watery eyes.

"Moony what could this meeeean."

"I think it means she just isn't interested, James," Remus said soberly.

James' chin quivered a couple of times. "But what could this meeeeean," he wailed again after a few moments.

Remus rolled his eyes and raised his arms to Sirius in a surrendering motion.

Sirius sighed heavily, and slapped James twice across the face. "Snap out of it, Prongs!"

"He—HEY! Wanker," James spat, pushing Sirius away and massaging his cheeks.

"Listen. Obviously your attempts to get Evans have gone poorly in the past, although it seems fairly clear to me that you've got her attention judging by the expression of longing she has on after you do something moronic..."

"Actually I believe those are looks of contempt," Moony interjected, although he was quite aware no one would pay the slightest attention to what he had to say.

"But if you want to get Evans," Sirius continued as though Remus hadn't spoken, "it's clear you've got to take some serious action."

"Uh oh."

"Hush, Moony. Listen. That Yuri guy is nothing but a dumb Swede, right?"

"Russian," Moony stated lazily.

"Whatever," Sirius waved a hand dismissively. "Clearly you've got him beat in smarts, and _definitely _in Quidditch ability... the guy can't even stay on a broom... plus you're far awesomer in general, isn't that right Moony?"

"The Queen and I are eloping to Spain."

"Right. So the only possible reason she could like him better than you is because _you're not blonde_."

"Or because you act like a total wanker whenever Evans is around," Remus said.

"You might be onto something there," James stated incredulously, looking at Sirius with wide eyes. Moony snorted in disgust and left the common room.

Sirius grinned mischievously. "I'll get the bleach."

---

Moony looked incredulous. "_Why_ didn't you use magic?"

Sirius' expression turned thoughtful. "Oh yeah..."

Remus extended a tentative hand and touched the nearest petrified lock of James' now yellow hair. He quickly withdrew his hand with an expression of disgust. "I... I don't know how to fix this."

James moaned.

"What if it all falls off?" Sirius asked Moony apprehensively.

"WHAT?" James yelped.

"It... it won't all fall off."

"MOONY. SOUND MORE CONVINCED THAN THAT."

"It's all right, Prongs. If all else fails I have a bonnet you can wear until your hair grows back."

James moaned again.

"Why the ruddy hell do you have a bonnet?" Remus asked Sirius.

Sirius ignored the question. "Can't you at least change its colour, Moony?"

Remus sighed and took out his wand. "I can remove the bleach, but I flatly refuse to make it any other colour."

"But Mooooony," James wailed. "Lily won't like me unless I'm blonde!"

"Lily won't like you unless you stop acting like such a wanker."

James' lip quivered. "Even if I'm blonde?"

"Even if you're blonde."

James stared at Moony for a few moments. "But she has to."

"But she won't."

"But she has to."

"But she won't."

James blinked uncomprehendingly. "But she has to."

Remus sighed. "Do you want me to remove the bleach or not."

"Will it make my hair less crusty?"

"No."

"Then sod off."

Remus sighed again and put his wand away as he left the dorm. Sirius, meanwhile, had picked up Peter's wand from his bedside table and was prodding James' hair with it from a distance. "What the ruddy hell are you doing with Wormtail's wand? You'll light my head on fire if you're not careful."

"Wormtail's wand doesn't hate me that much," Sirius said, waving his other hand.

"You tried to charm your eggs to taste better with it and they turned into water."

"Right, but there was also that time that I was trying to body-bind Snivellus and he just got all floppy. I figure if I try to stun your hair it might become more bendy."

"Tomorrow's Monday," James whined. "That means we have Charms. That means I have to face Lily looking like... like..."

"An albino porcupine?"

James moaned and hid his face in his hands.

"Relax Prongs. Perhaps a good night's sleep will fix your hair good and proper and you'll just be fashionably Swedish tomorrow."

---

A good night's sleep did not, in fact, fix James' hair good and proper. James, in a frantic attempt to de-crust his hair once and for all, decided to use the relashio charm on his hair. The heat did indeed make his hair floppier—so much so that it promptly fell to the floor.

At least Lily was smiling.

"Nice bonnet, Potter."

"Thank you," he responded, voice thick with sarcasm.

"I thought you took pride in that chaos you call hair. I haven't made you self-conscious now, have I?" she said with mock-concern.

"Hardly. I just realized that all your attention was being drawn to that part of my head, when my face also harbours many good features. Plus, not to mention..." James waggled his eyebrows and held out his arms, beckoning at himself.

"Yes James," Lily said in an insincere monotone. "I see it now. You're very hot. The bonnet isn't distracting at all." Suddenly a blonde figure was sneaking up behind Lily, snaking his hands around her waist. She smiled and kissed Yuri hello, but turned back to James with raised eyebrows as though daring him to say something.

James glanced from Lily to Yuri and back to Lily, clearing his throat. "Real men aren't afraid to wear bonnets," he said in what he hoped was a very convincing tone.

"Oh, clearly," Lily said, giggling sarcastically as she turned and pulled Yuri along with her as she walked down the hall. Yuri frowned back at James, but followed close behind Lily.

---

The next day, the bonnet-wearing Yuri was Lilyless.

Sirius was recounting the story whilst leafing lazily through _Which Broomstick._

"And then he said, 'but you agreed with Potter that real men wore bonnets', and she said 'I was just being sarcastic'..."

Remus clucked his tongue and regarded the bald, but elated, James, ignoring Sirius. "I can grow it back, I think."

"You can? Oh Moony. You're such a mate."

"I'm not sure I should though."

"Don't be a grump, Moony. It's clear Lily doesn't like blondes anyway, isn't it Padfoot."

"...And then he said, 'you're a too confusing girl' in that hilarious accent he thinks sounds cool, and then she said, 'just take the bonnet off', and then he was all miffed because she was being demanding..."

"What have you learned from all this, James?" Remus asked him seriously.

"That Lily doesn't like blokes who wear bonnets. I don't want to wear bonnets anymore, Moony. If I do I'll never have a chance with Lily."

"_You didn't have a chance to begin with._"

"Lighten up, Moony. You're always such a pessimist. Isn't he just so cranky, Padfoot?"

"...And then he cried! The large Swede started crying right there in the hall, it was priceless Prongs, you should have seen it."

"C'mon, Moony. Grow back my hair back, pleeeeeease?"

"I don't think so."

"Pleeeeeease."

"No, James."

"If you don't I'm going to whine about how much Lily rejects me needlessly when we're so clearly perfect for each other _directly_to you, _all_the time..."

"You wouldn't."

James grinned and raised his eyebrows. "Wouldn't I?"

Remus sighed and waved his wand lazily. James' hair immediately began to grow back, and was back to its usual length and colour within seconds. "Hey! Thanks Moony, you're such a mate."

"Yes, well. I've got to be off, I'm studying with someone, something you might want to consider someday. Next time, don't ruddy well try to change your appearance using Muggle methods."

"Who's he studying with?" James asked Sirius after Remus left.

"Lily," Sirius answered distractedly, still leafing through _Which Broomstick_. "I heard them talking after class. All smart-person business, I couldn't be bothered to listen about what, but they're meeting in the library."

James flopped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. "She never wants to study with me."

"That's because when Moony says 'let's study', he actually means 'let's study'. When you say 'let's study', you actually mean 'let's take a sexy bath'."

James scowled and didn't listen. "What's Moony got that I haven't got? I mean, aside from a werewolf alter-ego... and a work ethic..."

"Brown hair?" Sirius asked, looking up from his magazine with a mischievous grin.

James raised his eyebrows. "I'll get the spray paint."


	20. Prompt 183: Sushi

**A/N: **_Okay. I've decided I'm going to slow down and take some time to take it easy every now and again, so hopefully updates will be somewhat more frequent than they have been._

_Hermione's so moody! But I had fun with this one. It was a difficult prompt to work into the Potterverse before it occurred to me that Ron would never be caught dead eating raw fish. It's not my favourite though, it seems to lack something._

_Bon apetite:) _

* * *

_April, 2002_

"Raw fish."

"Yes."

"_Raw_ fish?"

"Yes, Ron."

Ron blinked at the plate in front of him. "Why?"

"It's sushi."

"It's sneeze-related? Oh, yeah, _that_ stuff is all green and lumpy..."

"That's wasabi."

Ron's expression flashed horror. "What's been up where?"

Hermione crossed her arms. "Ronald."

Ron's eyes widened and met his girlfriend's. "Hermione," he said with equal seriousness.

Hermione sighed heavily and clucked her tongue. "Fine, Ron. Go back home and let your mother cook nice, safe food for you forever. Clearly you'd rather live with her than with me."

Ron blinked and shifted his expression into the familiar look of confusion. "What?"

"Go on. Go home to mummy. Let her carry on doing your laundry for you even though you're twenty-one ruddy years old."

"Where's all this coming from?"

"Where's all this coming from!" Hermione repeated, her voice becoming shrill. "Ron, _I _had to ask _you _to move in with me. _I. You. _After almost four years of going out, you'd think the relationship would have advanced somehow, but no, I practically had to drag you out of that house."

"I—"

"Even your _little sister_ left the house before you, Ron. Your brothers all left at seventeen! There you were, still at twenty, perfectly content to be mummy's little Ronnikins..."

Ron's face flashed anger. "Hey—"

"Now, if you'd rather go back and have her cook for you, if the food _I made_ doesn't meet your _standards for a meal, _you can just—"

"You know what, Hermione?" Ron started angrily, standing from his chair and shouting across the table from her. "The only reason I hadn't asked you to move in with me was because I was trying to find us a nice place. Something we could be in forever rather than some apartment like the one Harry and Ginny are living in, because guess what? You're worth more than that. I know you wanted a house, and my income wasn't cutting it for a long time."

Hermione's expression was shocked. "R—"

"Did you ever see me hesitate when we started looking at places? Did I ever go, 'I think we should just, erm, sit tight for a spell and, and well and see where this relationship is going'? No. I was in it the whole bloody time. Maybe you were too stuck in your self-involved control-freakish ways to notice that the first twenty places we looked at were just as good as this one. They were all just fine for the two of us. But everything I said I liked you just went, 'hmm, no, I think this is really dumb'."

Hermione frowned. "I would never say something was 'really dumb'."

"Yes, there you go. Clearly you should have the higher ground in this argument. Nevermind that I'm right."

Hermione stood now. "Don't be unreasonable."

"Unreasonable! Yes. I'm unreasonable. I'm unreasonable because raw fish and what's-up-here doesn't necessarily appeal to me as a meal. If you'd come out of your self-absorbed world to ask me what _I_wanted for dinner every once in a while..."

"Self-absorbed!" Hermione shrieked. "When was the last time you..."

"What? Asked you how your day was? Oh, how about... _yesterday_? And you, what about you, then?"

"I..." Hermione blushed. "I'm taking exams left right and centre, Ron! I'm sorry if I don't necessarily have time to hear about your_paperwork_..."

"Right, because I'm _really fascinated _to hear about law cases all the time. Please, Hermione, tell me more stories about Eugene the Eulogist whose funeral speeches killed the first two rows within a month of the funeral."

Hermione blinked. "You do listen."

"Of course I bloody listen! For all the shit I do for you, you never give a damn, it's always about what I do _wrong_..."

"Ron."

"What? What aren't I doing now? Am I supposed to suddenly be able to afford an engagement ring? It's not like I spent the entire last four years' pay on the _down payment_ for this house. I'm sorry that my _little sister _is engaged before you are. It's just something you're going to have to—"

Hermione suddenly lunged across the table, grabbed the front of Ron's robes, and pulled him towards her. Ron scrambled to gain his balance as Hermione kissed him with enough passion to make him dizzy.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" she asked quietly as she pulled away.

Ron skirted swiftly around the small table and backed Hermione against a wall. "You know I don't actually remember," he said huskily before kissing her with equal fervour.

The sushi lay forgotten. Hermione never served it again.

...Ron kinda wanted her to.


	21. Prompt 462: Natural

_September, 2015_

"Here, let me get that for you," Teddy said to the first-year who was staggering under the tremendous weight of his trunk. The boy looked gratefully at him as he swung the trunk up effortlessly over their heads. "What have you got in there, anyhow?" Teddy asked the boy. "Hardly need for your entire rock collection at Hogwarts."

A hint of a smile appeared on the boy's face, but he didn't respond; he was obviously in awe of Teddy's spiky, turquoise-coloured hair. Teddy looked up and jumped as though only noting his hair was that colour. "Blimey, when did that happen?! Oh, I'm _so_ going to get my kid brother for this… you just stay here, and I'll be back when the train stops to help you get that down, all right?" The boy nodded and Teddy smiled, saluting as he stepped out the compartment door.

"You're _so_ going to get your kid brother, are you?" came a soft, song-like voice from less than a foot behind him. Teddy froze in his tracks and tried to force the blush from his cheeks as he turned and smiled at the familiar face.

"The little ones need a bit of loosening up, to calm the nerves. You remember how it was in first year."

Victoire smiled softly. Teddy's hair stood at further attention. "Even when you're being entirely silly and saying things like 'blimey', you've got a rational explanation for it."

Teddy offered a small smile and shrugged. "It's the Remus in me, I suppose."

Victoire continued smiling and stepped slightly closer, closing the gap between them. "You're quite a strange gent, you know."

"You're hardly the average girl yourself."

Victoire recognized the compliment and pursed her lips slightly, keeping close eye contact with Teddy. He found himself quite unable to blink. She had the most magnificent, enchanting eyes… He could feel her breath on his lips now. "Something on your mind?" she queried, her voice barely above a whisper. Teddy swallowed hard, leaned slightly forward, and said,

"Aren't you missing your prefect orientation?"

She stood slightly back and frowned before his words sunk in and an expression of shock settled across her features. "Aie, I completely forgot!" she exclaimed. A wide grin suddenly replaced her shock. She scrunched her nose and giggled slightly before leaning forward and kissing Teddy on the cheek. He forced himself, with tremendous difficulty, to stand perfectly still. "Thanks Teddy, I think I can still make it if I run." She turned and scurried down to the end of the corridor.

"No problem," he croaked after her, hardly daring to believe he'd said _that_, of all things.

Victoire suddenly stopped short and turned around. "You don't have to crack jokes in order to make people feel comfortable, Teddy," she advised. "You've got a knack for doing that without even trying. Just do what's natural." With a smile and a flash of red hair, she slipped gracefully into the next car.

"You are allowed to like her, you know."

Teddy jumped and turned to regard his best friend, who was poking his head out of the next compartment with a knowing smile on his face. "You know quite well how much I like her, whether I'm allowed to or not," Teddy replied as he walked with stiff legs into the compartment, sitting down hard on the seat across from Evan.

"Sorry, slip of the tongue. What I meant was that after two years of non-stop flirtation between the two of you, it is perfectly acceptable to lean her against the wall and snog the living daylights out of her any time you want, which is basically what she was begging you to do back there, in case you missed that little exchange."

Teddy pursed his lips and stared at Evan, trying miserably not to blush. "Don't you think she's a bit young for me? I mean, really, I'm a seventh-year prefect. Hardly protocol for me to date a fifth-year…"

"Who is also a prefect. Hey, maybe it's fate!"

Teddy scowled. "Well, it certainly isn't protocol to merely lean her against a wall and 'snog the living daylights out of her'."

Evan stared blankly. "Ted, I know this is difficult for you to do, but you need to stop being so ruddy rational about this and just—"

"Do what's natural, yeah, yeah." Teddy sighed heavily and pouted in thought. "But she's so natural without even trying. Me? I can artificially manufacture a new face for myself if I want to. She's so absolutely, stunningly beautiful, and intelligent, and witty and funny and amazing without making the slightest bit of effort."

"And you effortlessly pull off the scruffy rock-star look about you that all the ladies want. I'm just the passive, sarcastic, friend-of-rock-star with abnormally large ears. You've gained yourself the keen attention of a gaggle of girls, all of whom are just dying for a cuddle with the Teddy-bear."

Teddy raised an eyebrow. "Teddy-bear?"

Evan smiled grimly. "That's what Morgan calls you." He sat up straighter and put on a falsetto voice. "'Are you meeting Teddy-bear later? Tell him hi for me, and it wouldn't hurt if you wanted to throw in a word or two about what a studmuffin he is'."

Teddy grimaced. "Did she really say studmuffin?"

"I imagine it's only a matter of time," he said tersely.

"I'm sorry, mate. Really. I'm trying to shrug her off."

Evan waved a hand. "Not your fault, really. I only blame you on Wednesdays."

Teddy smiled and fussed up his hair with one hand until it became a shorter, unkempt black mess, a style which would have reminded many of the older generation of his godfather. "It's only a matter of time before she notices you, Ev."

"Ah, but I'm 'like a brother to her', don't you know."

"Ouch."

"Alas." Evan's eyebrows suddenly shot up with inspiration. "You know, if you wanted to morph into me and one day sweep her off her feet for me, I wouldn't complain…"

"She might notice that 'you' somehow shrunk several inches overnight."

"…Ah. Yes. I forgot about that detail."

Teddy checked his watch and sighed. "I'd best head out to the prefect car soon," he muttered nervously.

"Such a burden to see that gorgeous part-Veela who wants you, I understand."

Teddy exhaled sharply in frustration and got to his feet. "This morning, my grandmother reminds me by owl post that Victoire could really use a good sweeping off her feet any time now. Ginny gets this sympathetic yet encouraging smile on her face every time my gaze lingers for just a second when Victoire leaves the room. Other than her mother, who thinks I understand less French than I do and makes frequent outbursts about what a layabout waste of space she thinks I am, I seem to be the only one who thinks that any action I take would be a bad idea right now."

"That's because the two of you together would be like a match made in heaven, Teddy. Even the fact that her mother disapproves is proof that it's meant to be. Isn't Victoire's dad like more of a rock-star wannabe than you, anyway? It's… it's more than good, Teddy, the way Victoire looks at you. It's just… right. It's natural," Evan finished simply, shrugging and peeling a banana half-heartedly. "Get used to the idea."

Teddy stood at the door of the compartment and stared at his best friend. "If being with Victoire was as natural as you say, then making the move would come easier than it is, wouldn't it."

"No, Ted. The fact that it isn't coming easy to you is the very indicator of how right it is."

Teddy stared. "That doesn't make any kind of sense."

Evan smiled. "Love never does, mate."

Teddy left the compartment without another word.

It wouldn't be for another two years that Teddy would finally lean Victoire against a wall for that long-overdue snog.


	22. Prompt 416: A Close Shave

_December, 2000_

Ron may be particularly dense at times, but this was too obvious even for him to dodge.

As he stood, pouting, in front of the bathroom mirror, the auburn scruff running rampant on his face, he turned the package over in his hands and read the description on the back for the hundredth time:

_  
Does you five o'clock shadow crop up at noon like magic?__  
Do you need to use cleansing charms on your face after meals to get those pesky crumbs out from within your stubble?  
Do your friends transfigure your clothes into a toga and call you Socrates due to your thick, fast-growing beard?_

_If you answered 'yes' to any or all of the above questions, you need SCRUFF SCOURGIFIER! Scruff Scourgifier is a Healer-tested formula which keeps your face clear of that pesky stubble for a full month, while keeping your skin clear and your hair follicles healthy.__ Plus, Scruff Scourgifier includes an anti-curse mechanism which identifies the miscreant who may be cursing you behind your back. Now all your mischievous friends will complain of excessive hair growth on their backsides!  
Listen to your girlfriend. Get rid of your scruff. Use Scruff Scourgifier today!_

Cheers, Hermione. Some Christmas present.

Well, he reasoned, it wasn't as though there hadn't been hints…

"Ron… I'm not quite sure how to phrase this, but… you truly should shave."  
"Ron… I find it difficult to enjoy kissing you when you've got this prickly monstrosity growing on your face."  
"Ronald, until you learn to give keen attention to the state of your face, I absolutely_refuse_ to serve you sandwiches with sprouts in them, it is_absolutely atrocious_ the way they cling helplessly to that porcupine you somehow attempt to navigate food through…"

And so on, and so forth.

Ron sighed. It wasn't his fault that the hair on his face grew at an alarming rate. Besides, he sort of liked it. It made him feel distinguished. It wasn't causing anyone harm, what's the big deal?

The stubborn side of Ron wanted to let the razor slip into the garbage. His right hand crept over toward the trash and held the gift precariously over the bucket—

"Ron?" Hermione knocked lightly on the bathroom door. "Everything all right?"

His hand jumped reflexively away from the trash. "Yes," he said, somewhat brusquely.

"Are… are you going to try that razor?" Silence. "I mean, It'd just be really nice if—"

Ron sighed. "Yes, Hermione. Just let me alone, will you?"

"All right. There's bangers and mash on the stove, come out when you're ready." And she shuffled away in her slippers and houserobe, humming quietly to herself.

But, as usual, the stubborn side of Ron gave way to the side of Ron who would do a great deal to make Hermione happy (although that was perhaps mostly because since they'd begun living together, he found that an unhappy Hermione often led to an even unhappier Ron trying to sleep on the sofa). He turned the package over again and read the instructions.

___Apply Scruff Scourgifier Cream to face. Bring blade up to cheek and simply let go. Blade will hover of its own accord and work itself into a shaving frenzy to give you a clean shave every time, with no nicks or missed spots.  
_

Ron sighed and spread the cream liberally until it covered every area of his face infected by what Hermione had taken to referring to as 'the Crimson Plague'. With a shaky hand, he brought the blade up to about ear-level and let go.

As promised, the blade floated momentarily in place before going quickly to work on Ron's face, flawlessly wiping away both cream and hair with one quick motion. In seconds the job was done. Ron raised his eyebrows impressively and brought out a hand to catch the hovering razor, but it darted expertly out of his grasp and, to Ron's horror, began shaving the rest of the hair off his head in long, sweeping swoops.

Yelping, Ron flailed wildly in an attempt to grab the razor. It seemed to predict his motions, however, and stayed firmly outside of his grasp, finding the opportunity to finish the job of shaving his scalp in between the waving arms. Not aware of his bearings, Ron fell sideways into the bathtub, pulling the curtain down on top of him.

"Ron, what on earth is going on in here?" Hermione asked as she pushed the bathroom door open hurriedly. Large clumps of red hair littered the bathroom floor; the blade lay abandoned amongst them; and a dull moan was emitting from the bathtub. Hermione rushed forward and untangled Ron from the curtain. Suddenly she stopped, stepped back, and gasped. "Ron…" she said slowly. "I hadn't meant for you to shave your entire head."

"It was hardly my intention either," grumbled Ron indignantly as he pushed himself out of the tub. Blushing furiously, he pushed past Hermione and glanced at his perfectly bald head. Immediately he groaned and slid down the wall behind him, hiding his face in his hands while he sat on the floor.

This was a disaster. He was ruined. He could never show his face at work again. His relationship was probably doomed. He may as well just go into hiding now. Become a recluse. Learn how to subsist on berries, though the thought of a meatless diet sent shivers down his back. This was it. He was finished. Hermione—

—was giggling?

Ron raised his head and looked disbelievingly at her. "What in the fresh hell are you laughing about?"

"Oh,_Ron_," was all she said before her sentence got lost in another fit of giggles.

"This is not helping," he moaned quietly before hiding his head in his arms again. "Just break up with me and be done with it, Hermione, I don't need to be laughed at beforehand."

"Ron. Ron." Hermione was shaking his shoulder now. She seemed to have gained control of herself. "Look up, Ron. Look at me." Slowly, reluctantly, Ron raised his head and met Hermione's now sympathetic eyes. "Why on earth would I break up with you?"

Ron pointed angrily at the mirror. "Do you see me, Hermione? I'm the last person in the entire world who should be bald. I look like… like a baby bird or something."

Hermione pursed her lips and ran a hand along Ron's perfectly smooth face. "So what?" she said quietly.

"So what?" he screeched.

She shrugged. "At least you're a cute, clean-shaven baby bird." She smiled genuinely at him and kissed him softly, hopping to her feet and offering a hand to pull him up. "Now come on. That food is going to get cold."

Somewhat stunned that Hermione still liked him without hair, he took her hand and glanced once more at himself in the mirror as he exited the bathroom, wincing emphatically at his appearance. "I may have to quit my job."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ronald. It's merely hair. In a month it'll start growing back. I'll charm it to grow faster than usual. You'll live to see another day." Ron sat down in the kitchen as Hermione handed him a plate piled with food. "Er… Ron? Just how much of that cream did you apply?"

Ron shrugged but didn't look up as he dug into his food. "Some. I wanted to make sure it would work."

"Did you, ah… did you read the whole package?"

Ron looked up. "You mean there was writing after the instructions?"

Hermione turned to hide her grin. "Mmm," was all she said, and pointedly changed the subject.

After breakfast, Ron went to help Hermione clean up the bathroom. When Hermione had her back turned, Ron picked up the package and finally located, in extremely tiny print, a disclaimer below the instructions:

___Note: The cream provides a range within which the razor will operate. __**Only a very light layer is required**__. Overapplication of cream may cause over-stimulation of razor, which may result in undesired areas being shaved._

Struck by a sudden realization, Ron suddenly turned the package over and, as he suspected, located the logo in the top right corner:

___  
WeasLee's Wizarding Wheezes_

* * *

_A/N: I like scruffy boys, myself. But I figured Hermione might be the sort of girl to prefer the tidier alternative._

_Please do try to picture Rupert Grint bald. I find it adds to the image immensely._

_And please don't beat me up for changing the Weasley's enterprise's name. I try to keep it canon but I do like to add my own twists._

_(Hopefully I'll keep updating at least once a month, but any promises I make are likely to be broken, so I'll leave it as a hopefully.)_


	23. Prompt 097: Paranoid

_August, 1998_

Harry was staring at the sky with a mixed expression of worry, determination, and skepticism. Ginny sighed and grabbed Harry's right hand tightly, closely intertwining his fingers with hers so he couldn't escape.

"It's a cloud, Harry."

Harry didn't break his line of sight. "But don't you think…"

"No."

"Ginny…"

"It's a cloud, Harry."

"What if it's not?"

"It is."

"You can't be sure."

"I can, actually, and I am. It's a cloud."

"But don't you see the—"

"Cloud? Why yes Harry, I do. Well spotted."

Harry pursed his lips and regarded the shape in the sky with increasing suspicion. "We should go check it out." He wiggled his hand in his girlfriend's grip, trying desperately to reach for his wand, but growing up with six older brothers had made Ginny extremely strong for her size. Perplexed, Harry frowned down at their hands and made a more vigorous attempt at separating their hands. Ginny used her free hand to direct Harry's line of sight directly into her eyes.

"This has to stop, Harry. It has been months."

Harry's determined expression darkened with frustration. "He may be dead, but there is resurgence everywhere. You know that. You've seen the Prophet, you've seen the, the frightened people… hell, half the wizarding world is under the Fidelius Charm."

"As was the case for most of the last year!" she nearly shouted at him before stopping and regaining her composure. "Listen," she began softly. "This is ridiculous, Harry. I'm not the only one who's noticed this. Ron, Hermione, mum, dad, everyone's worried about your constant sightings of dark symbols where they don't exist. This is the fourth Dark Mark you've thought you've seen in the skies this month alone. What you fail to notice is where the alleged Mark is in the sky, far above any houses or other structures, and its failure to resemble a skull in any significant manner. Quite often, these clouds are white and fluffy. You are paranoid, Harry. There is no other word for it. And it's understandable," she added loudly, cutting off Harry's angered response. "No one blames you for it. You alone had the responsibility of bringing order back into the wizarding world. That burden on you is off now. You don't have to single-handedly save the lives of every witch and wizard in Britain anymore. Because for every Dark wizard still causing mayhem out there, there are countless other good guys who have come out of hiding since Voldemort has gone. Even if you see a Dark Mark off in the distance, chances are good that someone has already come to the rescue."

Ginny stopped and looked Harry in the eye, waiting for his reply. Finally he opened his mouth and muttered, "I don't know how not to be the hero."

Ginny nodded. "I get that. And so does everyone else. But you're entitled to a semi-regular life now. And I want to help give that to you. So next time I tell you your so-called Dark Mark is a cloud…"

Suddenly Harry's head snapped to where the symbol had been. The 'skull' now looked rather like an upturned teacup on a saucer. Realizing he'd been mistaken, he sheepishly returned his glance to Ginny, who was smiling.

"Trust me," she said, loosening her grip on his wand hand. He kissed her forehead and enveloped her in a tight hug.

"Okay," he said simply. They stood like that for a while before breaking apart and continuing their evening walk along the road, hands clasped loosely. A burly man with an angry face passed them by, walking his Pomeranian. Harry's head spun briskly around moments after they passed one another. "Did you see the tattoo on his bicep?" he asked worriedly.

"The one that said 'Mum' in a heart?" she smiled.

Harry glanced at her with a cocked eyebrow. Ginny, ever smiling, nodded emphatically. After a quick glance behind him, he sighed and started forward again.

"All right," he ceded. "Maybe I'm a _little_ paranoid."

"Maybe a little."


	24. Prompt 419: Whore

**AN: **This is a weird one. I tend to be incredibly sympathetic to the unrequited lovers, ie. Remus and Snape to Lily, Neville to Ginny, etc. These ficlets normally end all happy-go-lucky; the unrequited ones are generally sad; but this one is quite a mixed bag. I really wanted to exemplify the seventh-year kids, already quite far in the process of determining which side of the war they fall on, but obviously still juvenile enough for name-calling and fist fights (which I doubt James ever really got over, haha). I also thought it was time to show that feisty side of Lily toward someone other than James. Snape I tried to portray as the (heavily) misguided lovestruck puppy, but I've never really written for Snape, so hopefully I didn't make him tooooo embittered. I hope you guys enjoy. :)

* * *

_March, 1978_

Severus Snape was in shock.

James Potter actually had the audacity to _apologize_ to him.

"And _why_," Snape sneered, "would I want an apology from you?"

James sighed. "Listen. I know my friends and I put you through a lot of, ah, persecution over the years—"

"Persecution?" Snape asked incredulously. "Stop kidding yourself, Potter, it was criminal."

James' already pursed lips became whiter, but he kept his civility. "No argument here. I regret doing a lot of the things that I did, and I really have no ambition to be on amicable terms with you, but I'd at least like to be able to say I made the effort." James took his hand out of his pocket and held it out to Severus. Even through the cock-and-bull story Potter was feeding him, Severus could tell that he really wanted to make peace.

Of course, Severus also knew the _real_ motive behind this 'epiphany'.

"Your whore is waiting," Severus said, nodding at the redhead behind James.

The next three seconds that passed felt like an eternity. James' previously relaxed posture went rigid; his eyes glassed over almost instantaneously with rage. Without moving any aspect of himself except his lips, James muttered under his breath, "What did you just call her?"

"I think you heard me," Snape snarled. "Now get your tainted hand away from my face. We both know that the only thing worse than a Mudblood is a Mudblood whore—"

As James' fist connected with Severus' face, Lily squealed from a few feet away and immediately disarmed the both of them, sending them to opposite sides of the corridor.

The next few moments played out exactly as Snape had always imagined. Lily strode toward them, holding the two wands. She came to him first, gingerly stretching out her hand toward his nose, from which blood was streaming out in copious amounts. "Is it broken?" she asked him softly.

Despite the overwhelming desire to maintain eye contact with Lily Evans until the world ended, Snape chanced a glance over his shoulder at the incredulous expression on James' face. Returning his gaze to Lily's green eyes, Severus shook his head. "I don't think so," he said quietly.

Lily nodded slowly and leaned slightly to his left. Unable to help himself, Severus took in her wonderful smell, hardly daring to believe he was awake. "Severus," she whispered in his ear. Shivers rolled down his back; it took all his willpower to keep his hands at his sides as she leaned in closer. "The next time you try to make James look like the enemy to garner my attention, _I'll_ break your nose."

She stepped back and pushed his wand against his chest. "And another word to the wise: try taking a step back and considering what your Dark Lord has you doing. Whether or not I'm a whore is debatable, but there is no question that you're You-Know-Who's bitch." And with nothing else except a swish of auburn hair, Lily had turned and left him, standing alone in the corridor, in favour of James Potter.

Severus almost wished that he was naïve enough to wonder what he did wrong. But as Lily's hand slipped gracefully into Potter's, Snape finally knew he'd never hear a friendly word from either of them again.

That night, Snape had the Dark Mark branded onto his arm. As usual, the only thing running through his mind was Lily; this time, however, the thoughts of her were immediately followed by a new mantra:

_Good riddance._


	25. Prompt 112: Allergy

_June, 1979_

This was all Lily's fault

"Jaaaames," Lily had cooed, wrapped in a blanket and curled up against him with a cup of hot cocoa as they watched the fire.

"Yes love."

"You should get a cat."

"A cat?"

"A cat."

"A feline-type, fluffy, meowing cat?"

"Yes, James, a feline-type fluffy meowing cat."

James had paused and thought for a moment, resting his cheek against the top of her head. "Why?" he asked finally.

"Because! They're positively adorable, and this is really beginning to feel like home. The only thing missing is a cat."

James perked up. "If I get a cat, will you move in, then?"

Lily smiled and leaned forward, planting a gentle kiss on James' lips. "Perhaps."

So James got a cat. A feline-type, fluffy, meowing cat.

So far, James had had to replace the curtains, the bedspread, and was currently crouched in front of the sofa, surveying the damage. Lily was cradling the cat, cooing to it softly. "James, she has such beautiful markings. Where did you find her?"

"Hm?" He pretended not to pay attention and carried on pointedly scowling at the clawmarks on the sofa.

As far as Lily knew, James and Wendy (Lily's name choice, not his) were marvelous friends; and, as far as James knew, this fact was directly connected to the fact that Lily's drawer was rapidly becoming Lily's dresser, James' closet becoming Lily's closet, and that the rest of the house now held a significantly feminine air it hadn't even come close to since James' mother had bustled around it at all hours of the day.

So even though James frequently shouted at the cat when Lily was out, and even though the cat took a fresh attempt at destroying James' furniture on a daily basis, even Wendy seemed to understand the importance of Lily's presence, and _actually behaved itself_ when she was home.

James sneezed.

"Do you still have that cold?" Lily asked with concern, walking slowly over to him, still holding the cat. James couldn't help but notice that the cat was making strangely purposeful motions with her tail such that it wagged under James' nose as Lily fussed over him. James leaned away as Lily placed a hand on his forehead.

"Yes," he said stubbornly, sneezing thrice more and finally standing up to walk away from the pair. "I think we'd best replace the sofa too, Lils."

"Oh, it's not so bad, is it Wendy?"

"Meow," said Wendy, and promptly began purring happily.

James stared at Lily in utter disbelief. "Are you looking at the same sofa I am? It's torn to ruddy shreds."

Lily pulled her attention away from the cat and frowned disapprovingly at James. "There's really no need to get terse."

James continued to stare. Lily continued to coo. Wendy continued to purr, all the while staring contentedly at James' aggravated expression.

James sneezed powerfully. He fell dramatically onto the ground in a heap and groaned.

"You know she has the most peculiar markings around her eyes, almost as though she's wearing glasses," Lily noted, ignoring James. "She's such a smart cat."

"That she is," came James' muffled and disgruntled response from the floor.

As the large grandfather clock in the corner struck one, Wendy struggled to remove herself from Lily's grip. Lily gingerly put the cat on the floor; the furry creature walked daintily over to the door and, pulling out her claws, began to paw at the door, creating shallow marks in the mahogany finish.

"All right then, off you go," Lily told Wendy as she pelted out into the yard and around the corner. Lily watched her fondly before quietly shutting the door, taking out her wand, and repairing all the destroyed furniture in the house, including the door.

James sputtered. "But… that's…"

"Far easier than buying new furniture every time she claws something up, isn't it?" Lily grinned, taking James' face in her hands and kissing him gently. "Thank you for putting up with her, James. I know it isn't easy with your allergies."

James gaped. "You know I'm allergic?"

"Of course, silly. It's hardly coincidence that you get a cold when Wendy's in the room and it miraculously disappears at all other times."

"Why did you just pretend as though you thought I had a cold?!" James asked, somewhat hysterically.

Lily smiled as she walked into the kitchen. "Well, we wouldn't want to make Wendy feel guilty for making you sneeze, now, would we?"

"No," James muttered, "we wouldn't want that." However, as Lily's sweet voice reached his ears as she began to sing while she made them lunch, James once again recalled how gloriously worth it having a cat was if it meant that he got to have Lily, too.

--

Minerva McGonagall knocked quietly upon the door before entering. Dumbledore sat at his desk, stroking a beautiful Fawkes with one hand and staring expectantly at the door with a smile as she entered. "Ah, Minerva, excellent. How are they faring?" he asked her.

"Quite well," she said. "They don't seem to be in any immediate danger… putting aside the fact that I suspect James is allergic to cats and that he's merely putting on a brave show to please Lily."

"Ah. Are we sure he isn't merely allergic to cats who tear up all his furniture?"

McGonagall's mouth twitched into a smile. "I daresay it's due penance for all the hair he caused me to tear out of my head over the years."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I imagine Lily repairs it when he's not looking."

McGonagall continued to smile as she sat down in front of Dumbledore's desk. "She tests every so often to see if James suspects; remarking on my glasses and so on. He seems quite oblivious."

Dumbledore nodded. "Well, it was you, not I, who supposed James would never accept the protection if he knew it was there."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Let us hope he never finds out."

Dumbledore and Minerva fell silent, each staring contemplatively at the floor. Dumbledore chuckled suddenly. "There is one thing I always forget to ask you, Minerva: how did you have James find you specifically over any other cat?"

Minerva, now, chuckled with the memory. "I merely marched into the house one day when he'd opened the door and quickly made myself at home on the sofa. He stared at me for several minutes and eventually just shrugged, saying, 'well that saves me a bit of work now doesn't it?'"

Dumbledore smiled. "Ingenious. I'm sure Lily is comforted of your presence."

McGonagall's smile faded. "I doubt very much that my presence increases her sense of security, as my being there implies they require protection."

The pair exchanged a solemn look before Minerva got up and left the office without another word in order to return to James and Lily's residence as quickly as possible.


	26. Prompt 482: Dirt

**February, 1993**

Filius Flitwick was pacing.

"I… I think what you're doing is… is marvellous… is heroic? No, you idiot… is…"

"Trouble with grammar, Filius?" Minerva said with a wry smile as she walked into the staff room. The tiny man jumped.

"No," he said, flushing. "I was merely... practicing... rhetoric."

"For that meeting with a certain witch we both know you've been avoiding?" Minerva sat down with her cup of tea by the fire and watched Filius over the rim of her glasses.

"I…" Flitwick began, before abandoning his façade and collapsing into a chair across from McGonagall. "Oh, Minerva, I've held a torch for so long…"

Minerva's lips twitched into a smile. "You know I don't ordinarily care for this sort of gossip, Filius, but it's obvious to everyone on staff, except her of course, that you love this woman silly. Do us all a favour and do something about it."

Flitwick kicked his feet in frustration. "I can't seem to find the words, Minerva. Especially now, that she's so busy with the Mandrakes…" Filius shook his head hard, as though to dislodge his amorous feelings out of his head. "The trouble with Pomona is that even after she's been fussing with teenaged plants all day, covered in dirt and secretly gritting her teeth in frustration, she's still absolutely gorgeous and I can't approach her for stammering. No—pardon me—_especially_ when she's covered in dirt do I struggle to approach her. I—"

"Filius," McGonagall interrupted, pursing her lips. "Words aren't necessary with Pomona. A gesture will do. A box of chocolates will profess your affection. A rare plant, perhaps. Valentine's Day is next week. Just… quit fluttering about and make your feelings known. You by yourself are worse than my entire class of sixth-years, which I daresay is saying something."

And Minerva rose from her chair and left Filius alone in the staff lounge once again.

--

Exactly one week later, Filius slipped into Greenhouse Three, dittany in hand, earmuffs over his ears. Moments later, the dittany safely on the ground, Pomona was swept up in his arms.

Behind them, the teenaged Mandrakes made fake gagging noises.


	27. Prompt 371: Alcoholic

**A/N: **I'm so sympathetic to poor Remus and his unrequited love for Lily that I made up. It could be!

That, by the way, is the sweetie connection of this somewhat depressing ficlet. Remus loves Lily damnit. As usual, my unrequited-love ficlets end sad and angsty. I wonder why that would be!

This was probably the eighth ficlet I ever wrote, but it sat in my files being all neglected because it wasn't my favourite. I rewrote it in ten minutes just now and it still seems pretty lame to me but I'm really not sure what else I would do for the prompt so there we have it.

--

**November, 1981**

Lately, Remus was an alcoholic. Only lately. This month, anyway. Didn't seem like anything better to do.

"Another?"

"Yep."

Aberforth poured the firewhiskey. "Full moon's tomorrow," he said conversationally.

"Full moon was Hallowe'en," Remus corrected, waving a finger.

"Yep. And full moon's tomorrow."

Remus waved Aberforth off. "Full moon's everyday lately."

So here it was:  
-Remus, werewolf, had hidden in the Shrieking Shack while Voldemort killed James and Lily.  
-Sirius, his best friend, turned out to be a Death Eater and was currently rotting in Azkaban.  
-Peter, the fourth and final friend he'd ever really had, was also dead, killed by Sirius.

Remus waved Aberforth back. "Another."

Aberforth sighed and brought the bottle over, setting it down on the counter just out of Remus' reach. He held up a fat finger and moved it slowly in front of Remus' face, watching his bloodshot eyes dart frantically in an attempt to focus on the moving object. Aberforth dropped his hand. "Last one."

Remus nudged the glass slightly forward, giving no indication that he'd heard. And in a way he hadn't. In a way he hadn't heard, or seen, or felt anything since October 30th. He and Peter and James and Lily and Sirius and Sirius' latest trollop had gone out for drinks, not here but to the Three Broomsticks just down the way, in celebration of the most recent successful campaign against the forces of evil. Sirius and James were being ridiculous as usual; Peter, a bit too eager to keep up with them; and Remus and Lily sitting back and enjoying watching the gentlemen make fools of themselves. Sirius' date—Remus thought her name was Polly—chewed gum and examined her nails, unimpressed that Sirius' attention was focused mainly on his friends.

It had been a great night. Remus and Lily had had a wonderful intellectual conversation, as usual. Lily was one of… well, actually, she was the only one who seemed to be on the same wavelength as Remus most of the time. They discussed Wizarding politics, practical applications of potions to the Muggle world, inventive charms slowly becoming available to the Wizarding world… everything, really, that Remus found interesting.

And then James scooped her up and brought her out onto the dance floor; she'd shrugged at Remus at their interrupted conversation and proceeded to be thrown around the floor, this way and that, by her boisterous husband. The father to her son. The only one who really excited her enough to put that twinkle in her eye that Remus found so engaging. The hero Remus had never been, despite his power.

And they were all gone. Sirius and his grin; Peter and his eagerness; James and his lop-sided smile.

And Lily.

Remus pushed the glass forward. "Another."

Every day since seventh year, Remus had envied James. Yet somehow he was alive while James was not.

His glass was still empty. "Another," he said again, louder.

"No, Remus," Aberforth said from the other side of the room as he dried pint glasses by hand.

"It's my life damnit."

"Right. Go live it."

Go live it. Go live what?

"Listen," Aberforth continued, leaning forward and lowering his voice to ensure the other patrons wouldn't hear. "They're gone. You're not. Fix what they left behind. Fight the guys who did you wrong. Stand up for yourself, for what you loved and lost. This is the way you're going to honour their memories?"

Something nagged at the back of Remus' mind. "I was fighting. I was, before they were killed. If I carry on fighting now, I don't make a difference."

"You'll do more than you will sitting around here, wasting your meager knuts on drink."

Remus frowned. "What do you mean I'm wasting my nuts."

"No, I mean… ach, forget it. Just go and fulfill the destiny they would have if they were still here. Pick up where they left off. You're not in James' shadow anymore. You're a powerful wizard and you know it. If not for your friends, then do it for that baby boy who's been shoved into the Muggle world. And if not for him, then do it for Lily." Aberforth finished his speech with a light tap upside Remus' head, which nearly sent him tumbling to the floor. "Your tab is cleared if you never come back." And with that, Aberforth returned to the other side of the bar and continued drying pint glasses by hand.

Remus stumbled out of the bar and made it to the Shrieking Shack, where he had lately taken up residence. He collapsed on the old mattress Sirius had found for him (_before he was evil_, Remus thought thickly) and unconsciously ran through the last words Lily had said to him as the world in front of him faded to black:

"Sometimes I am truly afraid for the world, Remus. I fear that someday it'll all become too much for anyone to comprehend, and people will just _stop fighting_. Just stop. Dead. And let evil take over." She'd shaken her head sadly, strands of red hair coming loose from her pony tail. "Sometimes, I am afraid. But then I surround myself with you and James and everyone else, and I realize that will never happen. You know the saying, after all…" And she'd smiled and kissed him on the cheek and taken James' hand and then they were gone.

But Remus… Remus was still here.

When Remus woke up the next morning, he was no longer an alcoholic. Instead, he was a cavalier fighter; he fought hard against his friends' enemies, even if that last one James and Lily were always chasing still lingered.


	28. Prompt 353: Power

_September, 1977_

Remus didn't like eavesdropping. He felt it a dishonest practice. The other Marauders were expert at it, but it made Remus uneasy.

He felt deeply uncomfortable, therefore, when he was stuck hiding in a broom closet as Lily and her friend Penny stopped directly in front of it to have a conversation.

"...really not that bad anymore," Lily was saying as the girls stopped in front of the door. "I mean, he's still a wanker, but really, it's James Potter we're talking about. He'll never not be a wanker."

Remus glanced over at Sirius with a raised eyebrow. Even in the dark of the closet, Remus could see that Sirius had pressed his ear against the door and was grinning widely.

"I don't know," said Penny with a smile in her voice. "I don't really see what you could see in Potter."

"He's a powerful wizard..."

"Who uses his power for evil..."

Remus could almost hear Lily's brow wrinkle. "Not anymore, though, that's what I'm trying to tell you. He's done nothing but good things for the past year... aside from pranking poor Sev every so often..."

Penny scoffed. "Lils, I just don't understand what you see in people. First you try to maintain that James Potter is a good guy, and now you are pitying Severus Snape, of all people. As far as I'm concerned, those two can blow each other up, they'd both have it coming."

Lily snorted in frustration. "Severus used to be a good friend. Now James is becoming a good friend. People change," she finished finally.

In the broom closet, Sirius had begun to bounce up and down with excitement. Remus, meanwhile, had taken out his wand and was mouthing promises to body-bind Sirius if he didn't calm down.

A light rustling of hair. "Lily, if you're looking for a powerful wizard to fall into the arms of, I've been telling you for _years_..."

"Penny, I just don't feel that way about Remus."

Both wizards stopped dead.

"_Why not?_" Penny asked incredulously. "He's handsome. He's twelve times more intelligent than Potter. You've been friends for years. And you've seen what he can do with a wand."

"There's no doubt that Remus is one of the more powerful wizards I have ever met," Lily admitted, not without affection, "and he is a very good friend of mine, I probably wouldn't have gotten through the OWLs without him..."

"Lily, be honest. Can you honestly say that you've never been attracted to him?"

"Well... no," Lily admitted.

Remus was backed up against the wall of the closet door, blood drained from his face. Sirius' expression also reflected shock.

"I've seen the expression on your face in DADA. When you aren't chatting with Potter, you're watching Remus. Face it, Lily, he's damn sexy when casting spells."

Lily didn't respond. Sirius was staring so hard at Remus that it appeared as though his eyes were about to fall out of his head.

"It's plain that he fancies you, Lily," Penny continued, now softly. "You know I've held a torch for him since fourth year, but I have to admit that he's far better suited for you than me. I just hate to see such potential go to waste," she concluded.

'You fancy her?' Sirius was mouthing. Remus stared at the ceiling in mortification.

"The thing about Remus is that he's very calm, collected, rational, everything I'm, well, not," she concluded. "Admittedly, I see a lot of passion in Remus when he's casting spells, but James is passionate about _everything he does_. Even if it is 'plain' that Remus fancies me... well... he hasn't made it apparent to me, has he? I want someone bold."

"And Potter is certainly that," Penny said, voice dripping with venom. "But he wears his emotions on his sleeve all the time. Remus is mysterious, stoic..."

Lily's tone was terse. "When you know the story behind his mystery, Pen, he's quite a bit more straightforward."

Penny sighed; feet shuffled. "All right, then. You feel free to pass up the best wizard you could ever have in favour of James bloody Potter." The girls' voices began to drift away.

"Really, though," Lily said fondly, "James is quite a wizard once you get to know him..."

Remus and Sirius stood in silence for several minutes. "I'm sorry, Moony," Sirius said sincerely.

Remus pursed his lips. "Don't tell James, okay?"

Sirius nodded. "Not a word." Sirius paused. "Except perhaps about the fact that Evans is starting to fancy h... ah... hair... products," Sirius recovered lamely. "He'll be thrilled, that mane always put him off a bit..."

Remus rolled his eyes and stepped out into the corridor.

Yes, he quite hated eavesdropping.

---

**A/N:** I wonder why Remus and Sirius were in a broom closet together. O-O

-Ahem- On another note, in honour of NaNoWriMo, I've promised myself to write either a ficlet every day or else part of a chapter of Teddy Lupin for the entire month of November, so I think I can SAFELY TELL YOU to expect fairly regular updates for the next 30 days or so. Happy Hallowe'en, everyone!


	29. Prompt 139: Father

**July, 2023**

Rose Weasley was lying on her bed, reading happily away, when the pebble hit her window.

And crashed directly through.

The sheepish voice, from the front lawn, said, "oops".

Rose braced herself, not daring to move; but neither did anything in the house. The night remained soundly asleep. She was safe. Exhaling, she flashed a grin out the window, slid the pane aside, threw her knee-high boots out onto the lawn, and shimmied down the drainpipe.

"Good work, mister Stealthy," she teased playfully as scooped up her boots from the lawn, took his hand in her own, and ran down the street toward the park.

When they were masked by the trees and able to slow to a stop, Scorpius shrugged and smiled. "I try." He snaked one hand around Rose's waist and pulled her into him until her lips were an inch from his own, her warm figure settling in against his toned form.

"Well," she said defiantly, her lop-sided smile giving no indication that he had just successfully made her insides turn into mush. "You fail."

Scorpius' eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. "I do, do I?" He brought a slender finger up and lightly pushed aside a strand of hair, careful to outline her ear with his hand as he tucked it away. Rose shuddered in his arms despite herself.

"Often," she whispered, trying to recover.

"But not always," he prompted huskily, waggling his eyebrows.

"No," she admitted. "Not always." She leaned forward and crushed her lips against his, backing him up against a nearby tree—

And light flooded the park.

"That will quite suffice," came her father's stern voice from behind them.

Rose broke hurriedly away from Scorpius and stood in front of him, expression panicked. Ron stood behind them, brandishing his lit wand in front of him, the sleeves of his bathrobe rolled up. Hermione stood behind him, somehow managing to look both amused and concerned. "Dad," Rose began slowly, "I know you're not exactly great pals with the Malfoys, but—"

"Let me guess," Ron asked, lips pursed. "I've got the _wrong idea_ about him."

Rose nodded once. "Yes."

"Mmm," Ron responded tersely. "Put your hands down, boy, you look ridiculous."

Scorpius, who had raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, let them fall to his sides. He continued to have the decency to look sheepish. "So," continued Ron, "if I've _got the wrong idea_, he hasn't been the cause of your delinquent behaviour, then?"

"Oh, _Ron,_" began Hermione, but Rose beat her to it.

"_Delinquent_ behaviour?" she began shrilly. "You mean leaving the house of my own accord when I'm sixteen years old isn't allowed?"

"Every night, Rose! Every night, all summer, you've shimmied down the drainpipe…"

Rose looked scandalized. "You've been watching me?"

"From the moment you got home I've known there's been something off about you," Ron said loudly. "Are you sleeping with this boy, Rose?"

Rose fumbled for words. "That is none of your—"

"No!" Scorpius piped up behind her, waving a hand. "No, no she's not. We're not. We wouldn't… and if we did, I mean, we'd be, ah, safe, you know, with—"

Rose turned and hit him in the chest to silence him. "If we _were_," she continued, "it would be none of your business."

Ron's face contorted with anger; Hermione took momentary advantage of his silence to step forward. "Rose, we're not angry with you."

"_I daresay we are_," Ron began, but Hermione held out a hand to silence him.

"We just wish you'd told us about Scorpius earlier, sweetheart, that's all. Why did you feel you had to sneak out of the house?"

Rose beckoned at her father, who had taken to pacing back and forth behind Hermione. "Why do you think?" she asked with despair. "We aren't doing anything _bad_, we just want to see each other over the summer. Most nights he comes to me; every other night, I go to him, and we scarper to a nearby park to avoid _our fathers_." Rose's voice broke; she swallowed against the lump in her throat, and Scorpius, now having regained his stealth, took her hand without Ron's noticing. "We've been dating since October. We're _mad_ for each other, mum, absolutely mad. I would have told you if I'd thought dad would have been able to maturely handle the information."

Ron sighed heavily, but examined his daughter with a weary expression, now devoid of anger. Hermione nodded sympathetically. "All right, Rose. You're old enough to make your own decisions. I certainly have no problems with it, provided you assure me that you aren't going to sneak out of the house to see him anymore." Rose nodded and managed a shaky smile; soon both women were hugging and crying into each others' shoulders. Ron and Scorpius stood awkwardly aside.

"I treat her right, Mr. Weasley," Scorpius said after a while, still looking sheepish but staring Ron straight in the eye. "It's like Rose said; we're mad for each other. You didn't catch the right end of our relationship, I assure you…"

Ron held up a hand to silence Scorpius. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down several times; he opened up his mouth, closed it, and finally found words. "Why don't we all go back and have some tea and talk about it," he said tersely.

Scorpius nodded. "Sounds good," he said weakly, relieved that he hadn't been decapitated.

-

"That wasn't _so bad_," said Rose later as she lay comfortably in bed, nestled against Scorpius (with the door wide open).

"Mmm," Scorpius responded, perhaps thinking differently. "Now all that's left is having _you_ meet _my_ father…"

Rose and Scorpius exchanged a glance, and the subject was immediately dropped.


	30. Prompt 457: Morose

**A/N: **Um... okay. If it's possible for someone to be in love with a fictional character, I probably am with Remus.

(Er... my RL boyfriend's pretty cool too.)

(That was real-life, not... not Remus Lupin.)

(Oh dear.)

This is my version of the first of many times Remus would deny Tonks. Writing this fic made me an official shipper of Remus/Tonks. I always thought Tonks was kind of air-headed but writing more of her made me realize she probably isn't, really.

On another note, this fic got its 100th review yesterday! --throws confetti-- You guys rock, thank you so much.

* * *

**August, 1996**

Remus was standing outside, alone, leaning casually against a tree, watching the almost-full moon shine over the countryside.

Remus had felt alone before. He thought he was at his loneliest after James and Lily had been killed and Sirius had gone to Azkaban. But even then, the knowledge that Sirius was still alive, and that little inkling which persisted at Remus that suggested Sirius was innocent, gave him hope at times. Sirius certainly _looked_ guilty, but it was almost impossible to believe that his friend could have betrayed James, Lily, and Harry, that he could have killed Peter… and, in fact, that little inkling had turned out to be right.

The day Peter was discovered, the day the truth about Sirius was discovered, was the best day Remus had had since his days at Hogwarts. He had his best friend back. Remus was no longer a _complete_ outsider.

But now Sirius was gone. Finally, officially. Disappeared through the veil in the Death Chamber. And Remus was alone.

Except… except that through Sirius' death, Remus seemed to have acquired the closest thing to a new ally since Remus' reintroduction to the Order.

He spent many nights with Nymphadora Tonks. In a fully platonic sense, of course; he'd first escorted her home on the night after Sirius had died, and she'd invited him in for tea. They'd talked for hours, reminiscing about Sirius, and finally Remus broke. And she was there, through and through, holding him gently as he wept openly over the loss of his final true friend.

Her hair was brown that day, and it hadn't changed since. She seemed to lack the vivaciousness she always held before. He sometimes caught a sparkle in her eye, but for the most part, she had become morose, just like Remus.

And that had brought them close. They had an unspoken bond between them. Remus couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, but Dora understood him in a way he wasn't sure how to respond to. To be honest, he didn't want her to. She seemed almost _too_ okay with his werewolfishness, with his poverty. She almost seemed to _embrace_ him for it.

Remus sighed and stared at the moon. A shiver ran down his spine.

"Remus, don't just stand out there being cold, come warm by the fire," came Tonks' soft voice from behind him.

Remus jumped slightly, but smiled and turned to glance at her as she approached. "I'm all right. The moon is holding a trance on me, I suppose." He turned back and stared at the full sphere again. "It's full tomorrow," he said hollowly.

Tonks stood beside him and nodded tersely. "Have you got someone making your potion for you?"

Remus shook his head. "I'll manage."

Tonks frowned and placed a hand on his arm. "Don't be ridiculous, I'll make it for you."

Remus' eyes widened; he struggled to keep the scepticism out of his tone. "Ah, Dora… have you any… _experience_ with the Wolfsbane Potion?"

Dora's expression flashed offense. "Not explicitly, but I do have training in potions, I'm an Auror after all…"

Remus shook his head. "It is a very, _very_ delicate potion. It's not that I don't trust you," Remus added hurriedly, "but very few people can successfully make the potion, and, well, I don't want you accidentally blowing up your house whilst trying." He looked her in the eye and raised his eyebrows as he finished, asserting the unsaid implication of her clumsiness.

Tonks stared back at Remus, brow furrowed. "Fine, Remus. Suffer through. Just like you always do, like you've always done for your whole life. You choose to suffer through alone, ignoring those who want to help, ignoring the possibility of 'us' in favour of being alone…"

It was Remus' turn to frown. "'Us'? What have we got to do with—" But comprehension hit Remus before he was able to finish his sentence. He observed Dora's face, which remained defiant, but couldn't hide the flush which was creeping into her cheeks. "Oh, Dora. Dora, Dora…" Remus turned on his heel and pressed his forehead against the trunk of the tree he'd been leaning against.

Tonks swallowed. "Why do I get the feeling I'm going to be let down easy?"

Remus closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and turned to face the young witch again. "Nymphadora," he began seriously, "there isn't an 'us'. There can be no 'us'. I am sorry, I am truly, truly sorry to have to tell you this, but…"

"But you just don't have feelings for the clumsy witch upon whom you feel you can't depend for some reason, I understand," she said, voice wavering. She prepared herself to turn on her heel and march back to her home, but Remus' hand shot out quickly and caught her chin. She was forced to stare into his deep, brown eyes, slightly bloodshot from the moon's influence.

"I wish it was that simple," he said huskily. "I can't bring myself to be dishonest with you, Dora. You're a truly spectacular witch, with a tremendous amount of power for your age. You're intelligent, you're quick, you're compassionate… it's simply not the case that I don't reciprocate your feelings." Remus shook his head. "The day Sirius died, I felt like I lost all the significant connections I'd ever made. Three things got me through those first few days: my obligation to look out for Harry, as James and Lily's friend; my determination to right the wrongs done to my friends; and your support. In weeks, you've somehow penetrated the shield I've long since put up to protect people from the beast living inside me… but this is as far as you get."

Tonks swallowed hard against the lump in her throat and tried to make herself sound assertive. "Remus, if you think I'm going to put up with the answer that you're trying to protect me from something which affects you one day of the month and which isn't your fault to begin with—"

"It's not just my werewolfishness, although that is certainly a driving factor. I am a poor wizard, Dora. I wouldn't be able to provide for you, and you _certainly_ deserve that."

"I don't care," she pleaded. "I'm an Auror, I'll bring in enough for the two of us—"

"Furthermore," Remus said loudly over her protests, "I am over a decade your elder. You are young, vivacious, beautiful… everything I am not. You have such a future ahead of you, whereas I am destined to spend the rest of my life mooching off the kindness of others. You deserve a life of dignity, something which I cannot provide."

"Remus," she said slowly, trying to make him understand, "I don't care about any of that."

"And yes, let's address the danger I pose to you, shall we?" Remus continued, ignorant to her protests. "Sure, I can remove myself from your vicinity for a certain amount of time, but I will eventually find my way back. I've had relationships before, Dora, and the beast inside me doesn't hold back. If we become involved, this beast will adhere to its bestial urges, and it will track you down whether I want it to or not."

"Remus Lupin, I am a trained Auror!" Tonks shouted at him. "Don't you think I've had training in dealing with werewolves? At the _very least_ I can keep you at bay until the sun rises and you change back."

"Even if that were the case," Remus bellowed, "you would grow weary! You have yet to see the beast that I become. You disconnect me from the werewolf but the reality is that we are one and the same! Eventually you will grow to understand this, and you will not want to continue contact with me. It is a curse, Dora, an absolute curse, and I flatly refuse to bestow it upon you." And finally Remus turned and walked to the edge of the property, preparing to Disapparate.

"You don't know that!" Tonks called after him, tears streaming openly down her face. "You can't know any of what you just said, Remus, _please_, give us a chance!"

Remus looked back once, and Tonks saw that his eyes were brimming with tears. "I wish it were different," he said simply, his tone renewed to its soft command. A crack echoed in the night, and he was gone.


	31. Prompt 090: Bomb

_January, 2002_

Ron and Hermione were getting busy on Harry and Ginny's bed.

Ginny had a dungbomb.

"This is a horrible dilemma," she said, weighing the dungbomb with one hand and staring at the bedroom door.

"If you set that off in the bedroom, love, I won't be cleaning it up," Harry said from his armchair, smirking over the top of his book.

She stuck out her tongue. "Party pooper."

"Actually, Gin, I think that would be you." He gestured at the dungbomb and grinned a crooked grin.

"Mmm." She tossed the dungbomb lightly in her hand and made to throw it at Harry, who dived behind the chair and used his book for cover.

"Watch where you're aiming that, will you?" Harry said with fake grumpiness as he emerged from behind the chair, hair ruffled. Ginny laughed and blew him a kiss, and then cringed at the sighs coming from the bedroom.

"Oh, Ron. You do ask for it, don't you?" she asked the door rhetorically.

"You're going to do it, aren't you?"

Ginny sighed. "You'd understand if you grew up with six brothers."

Harry stared. "Gin, remember when we were at Ron and Hermione's for dinner last week…"

"Oh, don't you turn this around on us," Ginny scolded. "We were only kissing."

"That's because Crookshanks wouldn't leave us the hell alone."

"No, it's because _we_ have a sense of common decency. Unlike these two." Ginny tossed the dungbomb lightly in the air. "I would hate to hit Hermione, though. It's a risky operation."

"Ginevra," Harry said seriously, reaching over to keep Ginny's hand still. "If you set this off, you will be smelly and complainey in a very short amount of time. You run the risk of having your brother and best friend furious with you, and Arnold besides."

Ginny looked startled as she remembered her Pygmy Puff, who had taken to rolling around in the bedroom and was probably doing so as they spoke. "Oh, the dung would _never_ come out of his fur…"

"That's right," Harry said soberly, nodding. "Plus it's just generally not a good idea to set off a dungbomb in our own house." He kissed her forehead and grinned. "Let's at least catch them fooling around in their own house before we set off any dungbombs."

Ginny laughed and stood on her tiptoes to kiss Harry properly. "Right you are. Right wonder what I was thinking."

"I know. You're an odd duck." Harry bent down to kiss her again.

"_I'm_ an odd duck?" she mumbled through their kiss without breaking away. "I think – you're the one – who is looking up – Auror business – after dinner – for fun."

"Mm," Harry agreed or objected as he wrapped his arms around her. Ginny brought her hands up to Harry's hair and –

The sound of the explosion was followed by a yell and a squeal from the bedroom. Some mad scrambling later, a half-clothed and completely dishevelled couple burst into the living room. "What in the name of Merlin's pants was that?" Ron asked in a high pitched voice, Hermione wide-eyed behind him.

Harry and Ginny stood in the middle of the living room, both of them absolutely covered in dung. After surveying the living room and noting the brown, drippy quality of the walls and ceiling, and finally after assessing each other, the couple burst into hysterical tears, and took a rather long time to calm themselves.

"All right," Harry said to Ginny, after much scrubbing and many showers. "Next time, I'll let you target Ron."

Ginny hummed happily and snuggled into Harry's chest. "I knew you'd come around."


	32. Prompt 070: Alone

_July, 1998_

George always talked to himself as he opened up the shop. He spoke in half-phrases; sometimes he finished a sentence with no audible beginning, while other times he started one and then trailed off. Quite often he looked around him, apparently confused, and then remembered, a flash of pain striking his features. Other times he would suddenly stop in the middle of walking, as though struck by a sudden blow, and carried on after a moment like he hadn't stopped at all.

Angelina felt almost as lost as George looked. It was horrible to watch one of the redheads without seeing the other close behind. Even when she'd been dating Fred and they'd sought some time alone, Angelina was always thrown somewhat off when she saw Fred without George. Still, she reasoned, sitting at Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlour and watching as George put out the displays, the strangeness she felt at seeing one without the other must have been nothing compared with George's feeling of seeing so much empty space where his reflection should have been.

George was trying to pull a display out onto the sidewalk without much success. He shook the display, but it was stuck on a table which lay just indoors. George kicked the display in frustration, then kicked it again. And again. And again, and again…

Angelina rose from the table and hurried across the alley. "George. _George_," she prompted, shaking his attention away from the display and toward her. "Stop. Let me give you a hand."

He looked over with unseeing eyes at Angelina, then turned away and threw his fist firmly against the wall. Then he swallowed, clenched his teeth, and smiled weakly. "Hullo, Angelina." His voice tried and failed for a conversational tone.

Angelina took out her wand; the display glided seamlessly to its place beside the door to the shop. "Come on," she said, taking his arm and gently pulling him inside. "Let's have some tea and then I'll help you with the displays, all right?"

George mumbled under his breath but allowed her to guide him inside the shop. She sat him down in his office and began to boil some water. "You might encounter less frustration if you just use magic with those displays, you know," she said uncritically.

George nodded and stared at a point on the floor, hands on his knees. "You're probably right," he acknowledged. "Fred and I used to take them out by hand for some reason. Never really thought to use magic, to be honest." He looked at Angelina and smiled the same weak smile. "Can't seem to break old habits."

"Nineteen years of constant company and suddenly it's taken from you? Not something you're going to get used to in a couple of months," she pointed out, careful to use a sympathetic tone.

George snorted lightly. "Your earth logic does not resemble our complex system of..." and he trailed off, realizing his error. His gaze returned to the spot on the floor.

Angelina didn't correct the misused pronoun. Instead, she shoved a cup of steaming tea into his hands and pulled a chair up next to his, resting a hand on his knee and looking him straight in the eye. "He was your brother, your best friend, your partner in crime, your other half. You will never know anyone as well as you know Fred. That will not change. You'll probably think of him every day for the rest of your life – " Her voice hitched and she paused to regain her composure. "And I probably will too," she continued in a whisper. "I miss him too, George. I keep coming out to Diagon Alley in the hopes that maybe I'll see him here, gallivanting around with you, I keep hoping that he'll pop out from around the corner and… and clap some sticker on my back to make me appear entirely purple to everyone but myself or something. I hope so desperately some days that I… I _hallucinated_, that maybe… maybe I didn't see him…"

She choked again, and suddenly she was being brought to her feet by strong arms which wrapped themselves delicately around her. Immediately reminded of Fred's hugs, of equal comfort and surprising gentleness, and she buried her face in George's chest and let the silent sobs shake her shoulders. He hugged her tighter, tears rolling down his own face.

"I forget, sometimes, you know," he said hoarsely, "that other people miss him. I just feel so shockingly alone…." He broke off, only this time he didn't expect Fred to finish the sentence for him. At last he had said it: he was alone. Sobs racked his own shoulders; he clung tight to Angelina until Ron tore into the office five minutes later, panicked that somebody else had died.

After that, George spoke mostly in complete sentences.


	33. Prompt 211: Behind

_July, 1978_

Whether the spots dancing about the kitchen were from tiredness or from the brilliantly sunny morning, Arthur couldn't tell. Between his increasingly stressful Ministry duties and long shifts with the Order of the Phoenix, it was not uncharacteristic of Arthur to be up for two days straight. Noting his somewhat zombie-like appearance, Moody had threatened to light a fire beneath him unless he got home to his family and had a good, long sleep and a few square meals. Arthur didn't need much convincing. He was tired enough that he Apparated a few miles from the Burrow, and so, finding that he didn't have the energy to Apparate again, he walked home in the warm morning.

The house, despite being occupied by five children, was notably quiet. The kitchen was spotless, and he could hear the twins fussing in his bedroom. Groaning slightly at the thought of his bedroom, he stumbled toward it in the hopes that Molly would still be asleep so that he could just slide in beside her and have a well-needed snuggle as he drifted off to sleep.

_The bedroom looks rather flowery_, he thought thickly as he stepped in the doorway of his room. He then realized that it was in fact flowery fabric that had been thrown over his face when he'd staggered in. He reached up to remove it and saw Molly running madly about the bedroom in her underclothes, half the closet unloaded on the bed. She was whispering to herself under her breath and kept moving to the closet and then swerving away from it as she got close.

"Molly?" Arthur asked hesitantly.

"Oh, _Arthur!_" she cried, rising and throwing her arms around him.

"What's wrong? What's happened? Are the boys all right?" Arthur suddenly felt wide awake as he cupped her face with his hand.

"Oh, yes, they're all fine," she sniffed. Arthur noticed that she was crying.

"Then who? What's happened?"

Molly's lower lip quivered. "Oh, Arthur, everyone's _fine_, I'm so sorry, look at the mess I've become, and over _nothing_…." She glanced behind her at the pile of clothes and then looked away.

Arthur looked from the heap of dresses back at Molly. "Come on," he said quietly, guiding her to the bed where they sat down together. Fred and George gurgled quietly in the corner. "Tell me what the matter is."

"It's… silly," she insisted, and waved a hand. She forced a smile and patted him fondly on the cheek. "I'm so glad to have you home."

"Ah ah, you're not getting out of this so easily. Nothing is silly if it's upset you so."

Molly sniffed again, chin quivering. "Arthur… do you still find me attractive?"

Perhaps it was the tiredness, but this struck Arthur as a very odd question. "Of _course _I do. You're just as beautiful as you were when I married you."

"Oh Arthur, do you mean it?"

"Merlin, yes. Where on earth is this coming from?"

Molly gazed at Arthur with tear-filled eyes. "I-I was just trying on m-my summer dresses, because it's _such_ a beautiful day out there, a-and…" her face contorted. "I don't fit into _any _of them! Not one! I'm too _fat_ for them!"

Arthur was one again deeply puzzled. "But Molly… you're not fat. Here, try this one –" and he held up one of the dresses heaped beside him on the bed.

"Oh, Arthur, I've got far too much _behind _for that dress!Look!" she demanded, jumping up from the bed. "Look at me! I'm not the slender girl you married anymore, Arthur!

Arthur was shaking his head slowly. He was still holding the dress. His head felt full of cotton. "Molly… I hate to agree with you," he began. Molly's eyes teared up again. "But you are indeed being dreadfully silly. There is absolutely nothing wrong with how you look." Molly's look of apprehension dissolved into one of deep affection. "Listen carefully to me, please. You're projecting your worry about me and the boys and your brothers onto yourself. You are not being fair to yourself at all. You've had children inside you for 36 months since I married you. You gave birth to twins three months ago. I never had any expectation of you keeping the figure you had when we met. In fact, I've never given much thought to your figure at all. I fell in love with Molly Prewett the woman, not the image."

"Oh, _Arthur_," she whispered for the fourth time, and threw her arms around him again. "You're quite right, of course, I've been so worried about everything, this one little thing just pushed me into tears and from there, and…" she swallowed heavily. "Oh, are you sure, are you quite sure that you don't mind that I… wobble?"

Arthur smiled tiredly and kissed her. "You are lovely, and your wobbles are lovely. You are my lovely Mollywobbles."

"Mollywobbles!" Molly exclaimed and fell into a spiel of giggles.

Arthur gave two short bursts of laughter as he leaned back against the pillows. "Mollywobbles," he repeated deliriously, then gave two more sharp bursts of laughter.

"Arthur, if you ever call me that in public, I swear I'll –" but she broke off at the sight of Arthur's slack face; he had fallen dead asleep, fully clothed and lying sideways on the bed. She smiled affectionately at him and kissed him in his sleep, wiping the last of her tears off her face.

"Mum?" came a shy voice from the door. Bill was standing at the door, Charlie hovering behind him. "We reckon Percy's wet the bed again, he keeps saying 'no' when we try to prod him from the bed."

"He's being Stubbard," Charlie added helpfully.

"That's stub_born_, Charlie, Stubbard is the man that daddy works with."

"Oh yeah."

"All right, boys. You go on down to the kitchen. Bill, you can make toast for you and Charlie, I'll be down soon with your brothers to make you some eggs."

"Okay, mum," the two eldest chorused and trooped downstairs in their jammies.

Molly threw on her witch's robes as usual and smiled as she looked at herself in the mirror. "Mollywobbles indeed," she muttered to herself and burst into laughter at the absurdity of it.

Yet every time Molly started to panic in the troubled years that followed, Arthur would hold onto her tightly and whisper the nickname in her ear, and she'd remember that everything would be just fine as long as she had Arthur.


	34. Prompt 451: Illusion

A/N: Augh, this one's weird. I need to get back in the habit of writing. I like this idea but I think I could have written it a lot better. Alas. Hopefully more to come soon. :)

* * *

_May, 1998_

Grunts rumbled deep in his chest. Ginny blinked herself awake, head resting on Harry's chest. They had gone out to the garden find some time alone under the Invisibility Cloak (Ron kept interrupting otherwise) and had fallen asleep, Harry stroking Ginny's hair, Ginny content to listen to his heart beat in his ribcage. But Harry slept on, even as the grunts moved through his vocal chords.

Ginny sat up and placed a hand gently on Harry's chest, soothing him. He stirred and his grunts took form: "No," he said softly, then with more strength, "No!" Colour flooded his cheeks; his limbs began to twitch in his sleep, and Ginny saw his eyes rolling madly beneath his eyelids.

"Harry, wake up," she urged quietly, shaking him gently.

"No, no," he moaned. "Ginny, no…"

"Harry, I'm right here," she said more loudly, shaking him more vigorously; he remained asleep. "I'm right here, Harry, come back to me."

"No… NO!" Suddenly he sat bolt upright, eyes wide and panicked. He was breathing hard; his head snapped to look at Ginny and he hardly seemed to believe she was there. He reached out and touched her face, her hair her hands, her sides, as though checking to see if she was real. "You're alive," he croaked, then threw his arms around her and held her tightly.

"Of course I'm alive," she said, bewildered, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I thought you were…" he whispered, but then his voice died in his throat, the sentence too much for him to bear. "I dreamed she got you," he said more firmly. "Bellatrix, I saw her spell hit you in the face –"

"It didn't. She's gone, and I'm here. There's nothing to be afraid of." She finally pulled back from the hug and looked him at him directly. His eyes flitted madly in their sockets, still plainly full of panic; he looked tempted to look around and make sure they were indeed at the Burrow and not back at Hogwarts with Voldemort waiting to be defeated. She took his face in her hands and kissed him gently, then pressed her forehead against his. "There's nothing to be afraid of," she repeated in a whisper.

They went inside together and spoke no further of the dream. In an hour or so, Harry had calmed down and seemed to have quite forgotten it. He did, however, keep Ginny within his sight more often than usual; he followed her conspicuously around the floors of the house, staring at his feet when he wasn't peering around corners to make sure she was there.

That night, Ginny awoke abruptly; she gazed sleepily around and saw that the clock said 3:30. Seeking around for what had woken her up, she soon became aware of voices downstairs, four of them by the sound of it. Hermione had woken up in the bed beside her; the pair of them glanced nervously at one another, then threw on their bathrobes and crept downstairs to the source of the racket.

Suddenly Harry's voice was much louder than the rest. "I'm telling you, I've got to check on Teddy!"

"Harry," came Mr Weasley's cautious voice. "You were just there this afternoon, don't you remember? You and Ron and Hermione and Ginny all went –"

"Stop talking down to me! I know what I saw!" he shouted madly. Ginny caught a glimpse of him and saw the same panicked look in his eyes as he had had in the garden.

"Harry, we all saw him," Ron said, approaching hesitantly. "He's okay, honest."

"How do I know it wasn't all an illusion?"

"A – what?" Mr Weasley shot a nervous glance at Mrs Weasley, who had tears in her eyes. "Harry – you've gone to see him every day for the past two weeks. We've _all _been to see him, and he is perfectly unharmed. You-Know-Who –"

"_Voldemort!_" Harry shouted desperately back at him.

"All right then, Voldemort!" shouted Mr Weasley. "He's been dead for two weeks, Harry, you killed him, you must remember!"

"It was a dream, Harry," Ginny said firmly from the landing above him. Her parents and Ron all jumped to regard her and Hermione with surprise. "It was the same dream you had about me and Bellatrix. She's dead, and I'm not. And neither is Teddy. We _will _check on him, Harry – in the morning, we'll all go and see that he's all right."

Ginny saw Harry's expression change; it was almost as though he woke up at her words. He swallowed several times, all the while staring at Ginny, his expression slowly softening. Then let his gaze fall to his feet. "All right," he said at last. "I'm… I'm sure he's fine. I'm sorry."

And Teddy was, of course, fine; as were Ron, Hermione, Molly, Arthur, George, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Neville, and Hagrid when Harry dreamed about each of them dying at the hands of a Death Eater or at Voldemort himself. All of these dreams were punctuated with dreams of Ginny dying; it was she who had experienced the closest call, after all, and so it was she that he dreamed of the most.

After a short time, Harry was just as sullen as he had been before the fall of Voldemort. He refused to talk about it with Ginny except to explain who it was that had to be checked on that morning.

"He thinks he's gone mad," Hermione explained to Ginny and Ron one morning after Harry had spun away into the fireplace. "He thinks the Resurrection Stone got carried away and is bringing back all the people who died after Voldemort killed him."

Ron stared blankly at Hermione. "Well, he's right about one thing – he has gone mad."

"He hasn't, though," Hermione said. "Think about it – more than anything in the world, Harry's scared of losing more of the people he loves. Now that there's no immediate danger of them being lost, Harry's creating his own reality where we're all dead. If Harry was killed by Voldemort, then he wasn't there _to kill_ Voldemort, and we all died because we fought back after he told us not to."

Ron had an expression of utmost disbelief on his face. Ginny sighed sadly. "Did you explain to him that this doesn't make any sense?"

"Of course I did, but Harry's always been a bit… erm…"

"Logically retarded?" Ron added helpfully.

Hermione pursed her lips. "Well, yes."

So when Harry sat bolt upright after a nap that afternoon shouting McGonagall's name, Ginny took him firmly by the hand and took him outside for a walk.

"She came to the house yesterday, didn't she?" Harry asked quietly after a long silence.

"Yes, Harry, she did," Ginny said directly. Harry nodded. He stared at his feet as he walked. "Hermione says you think you're dead," she added softly after a moment.

Harry exhaled in vexation of Hermione's sieve-like confidence. "I do not think I'm _dead _–"

"But you do think the rest of us are?"

Harry didn't say anything.

"Harry, don't you think we'd all be a bit... _mistier_ if we were all Resurrected?"

Harry was silent for a long time. Then he finally spoke in a low voice: "It all seems a bit surreal, don't you think? I survive the killing curse – again – I turn out to be the proper owner of the Elder Wand, and I disarm Voldemort to death. No one died after Voldemort killed me, and I get to be with you and live at the Burrow with the closest thing to a real family I've ever had. Don't you think all that sounds a bit too… perfect? Doesn't it all sound a bit like I'm making it up?"

Ginny was listening carefully. She finally looked up as Harry finished and he was looking hopefully at her, as though silently pleading her to talk sense into him. She gave his hand a squeeze. "So what?" she said flippantly, shrugging.

"I – what?"

"So what if you're making all this up? So what if it's all an illusion? I'm not complaining. I've had enough death come to me for a while, thanks, and so have you. Carry on with your fantasy, because I'm quite keen on being with you. Yes, I'm quite keen on being alive in general."

"But… Ginny…"

"Look. Doesn't it strike you as odd that you're only _dreaming_ that we're all dead? Haven't you noticed that your waking life is just as solid as it was before you even knew the Resurrection Stone existed?" She squeezed his hand again to let him know she wasn't angry, merely concerned. "Unless you'd rather convince yourself that everyone really is dead, possibly including yourself, then I recommend you accept the fact that I really am here, that I really am holding your hand, and that we really are standing together in this beautiful sunset."

Ginny's red hair was lit even redder by the setting sun. Her blazing look radiated; she was more beautiful than Harry had ever seen her. He bent his head and kissed her passionately, for she was never more real and alive in that instant than she had ever been.

Harry stopped having the dreams after that.


	35. Prompt 284: Destroy

_October, 1981_

Lily lay in bed, her green eyes staring intently at the ceiling. She thought about getting up to check on Harry, but she knew he would never forgive her for waking him up, and she thought she might burst into tears herself if Harry started crying.

It was one in the morning, and James was not home. The Order had raided a home at four that afternoon, and she hadn't heard a word since.

_No news is good news_, she kept telling herself, but the pessimist within kept telling her that this would not be true if Death Eaters had killed the whole Order.

Finally the front door opened with a creak. Then there was a slam. James seemed to be talking to himself; one boot hit the floor, then the other. James' voice rose; then there was a loud bang.

Lily flew out of bed, grabbed her wand, and hurried to the edge of the stairs, eyes blazing as she prepared to fight the intruder who had come in with James. But James was alone; his head was against the wall, his shoulders heaving.

"James?" she asked quietly. Either he didn't hear or he ignored her; suddenly he stood erect and punched the wall, _bang, bang, bang_…

"James," said Lily more firmly, moving swiftly down the stairs. "James." She reached him and he kept punching the wall, over and over, his face screwed up with the effort. "James, you are going to wake Harry, that's _enough!_" she shouted finally, reaching out and pushing him away from the wall. He finally seemed to notice her, and his face softened; his fist relaxed, and Lily wiggled her hand into his while the other reached up and touched his face with concern.

"What happened?" she asked softly. His face was covered with dirt; he blinked and two tears cut slowly through the grime, leaving clean stripes on his face. "It wasn't… Sirius?"

James closed his eyes, his adam's apple bobbing. He shook his head. Lily looked at him with concern, then checked him for injuries. Only his knuckles were bloody from punching the wall. She guided him to the kitchen and sat him down on a chair while she got some ice from the freezer and placed it in a cloth. She sat across from him and tenderly administered the ice to his knuckles. He winced slightly and stretched out his hand.

"Please tell me, James," she begged of him in a whisper.

"Edgar Bones," he said finally. "Their whole family. His parents, Ellery, their children…" James shut his eyes against the image. "God, the children, they were so small, so limp, so light… their baby, their infant son…"

James' eyes suddenly bolted open and he turned out of the chair, sprinting for the stairs without another look at Lily. She ran after him and found him in the nursery, picking Harry up, touching his head, his back, feeling him breathe, feeling his warmth. Harry slept on as James whispered into the top of his head, tears cutting new lines in his dirt-covered face.

Lily felt her throat constrict as she stood in the doorway, watching this scene. Here was this heroic man, fresh from fighting Death Eaters and surviving, embracing his tiny son for fear he will be killed pointlessly. What horrid environment is this? How are they letting one man instil such terror in their lives?

Lily stepped forward, tears rolling freely down her own face, and hugged James' arm as he held Harry. "We will fight this," she whispered, her cheek resting on his shoulder. "We will win."

Harry stirred in James' arms.

"We have to keep him safe," James whispered to Lily. "We have to. He's our… he's…"

"He's our son," Lily finished quietly.

"More than that," James clarified, now conscious of the conversation. "He's the future. He's… he's our weapon against death, Lily. It doesn't matter what happens to us. It's _Harry_ who can destroy death."

"Oh, James," she sighed, reaching up and feeling a lock of her son's thick, unruly hair.

"We can't let him end up like Edgar Bones' son. We can't. I've got to stop. I've got to listen to Dumbledore and stay in. I have to protect you and Harry."

Tears were still flowing freely down James' face, but his voice was steady. Lily's quiet tears turned suddenly into sobs of happiness. "I can't pretend I haven't been waiting to hear you say that for a long while."

But while the Potters quietly contemplated the destruction of death, Voldemort quietly contemplated the destruction of the Potters.


	36. Prompt 453: Adventure

**A/N:** The following is appallingly gushy. Forgive me. This couple is just like eeeeeeeeeee! for writing. Yay for writing! Thanks to my ever-faithful commenters, you rock. :)

* * *

_June, 1979_

Out of the corner of her eye, Lily saw James poke his head suddenly around the doorframe. "Lily."

"Mm?" She didn't look up from her book.

"Let's go on an adventure."

"Mmm... why?"

James gave a stunned silence. "Why? Lily, did you just ask me _why_ we should go on an adventure?"

She finally tore her eyes away from the page. "It's just that I'm terribly comfortable. We just came back from a mission last night, I've only just finished the cleaning..."

"Yes, I'm sure you charming the feather duster to float about was a dreadful amount of work for you. Come onnn. All the more reason to go have us a little fun. It's a gorgeous day, Lils, you can't spend it all holed up in the den."

Lily was still hesitant. "What sort of adventure?"

"Well, I'm not sure yet. That's half the fun of having an adventure."

"James, I know you well enough to know that your adventures always have some ulterior motive."

James looked scandalized. "They do not!"

"All right, what about the time in seventh year you grabbed me by the hand and took me on an 'adventure' to Hagrid's cabin where Sirius, Peter and Remus were watching a Blast-Ended Skrewt hatching and we all ended up with little tiny burns all over us?"

"Well, all right, but that was _one time_..."

"Or what about the time when we took an 'adventure ride' on your broomstick after a mission and we met up with Mundungus Fletcher in the Hog's Head and you got so sloshed that I had to ride us home?"

James snickered. "Well I couldn't have been completely sloshed, I certainly remember you trying to fly through Hogsmeade without bowling anyone over, to a complete failure..."

"And what about my 'Birthday Adventure' where you took me to Sirius' for my 'surprise' party, except that only _your_ friends were invited, Sirius' mum shouted at me the entire time for being a Mudblood, and I actually knew about the party three days in advance?"

"All right, all right, you've made your point," James snapped dejectedly. "I just thought it might be fun is all. A break from routine or what have you. But nevermind. Forget I said anything." He pulled his head slowly back around the doorframe with a sulky expression. Lily felt a pang of guilt despite herself.

"James, wait," she said with exasperation after a moment. His head slowly creeped back around the doorframe to peer sadly at her. "All right, we can go on an adventure. But you must guarantee that it doesn't involve any mystical creatures, or surprise parties, or anything involving me trying to steer a broomstick."

James brightened immediately and stepped into view, sporting dress robes and a broomstick. "Okay! Now run along and get all fancy, we mustn't be late."

Lily was very, very tempted to come down quite suddenly with a bout of the flu, but she put her book down and walked suspiciously into the bedroom to change into her own dress robes, for reasons she was completely clueless about.

---

"All right. Now you've got to shut your eyes."

"James, I am not shutting my eyes on a broomstick. You are already quite aware that being fifty feet in the air and I don't fare well together. I at least have to see my surroundings to make sure you aren't steering us into a tree."

"Lily, darling, have you ever seen anyone more capable on a broom than I?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Many people. Dumbledore. McGonagall. Most of the Order. Sirius."

James gasped and brought the broom to a sudden standstill. "Sirius is far below me on the broomstick capability scale!"

"James James James you know I don't like simply floating here."

"You've got to close your eyes, love."

"No! Please keep moving."

"Please shut your eyes?"

"Jaaaames."

"Please, Lily. It'll ruin the surprise otherwise."

"Oh, all _right_." Against her better judgement, Lily reluctantly closed her eyes. She felt James twist around in front of her to get a glimpse of her face. Apparently satisfied, he nudged the broomstick gently and slowly accelerated through the early summer air. "Oohhh, James, I don't like this," she said shakily, tightening her grip around his waist.

"It's all right, I'll keep you safe," he said softly. Immediately her anxiety lessened; as usual, James had the ability to make her feel perfectly safe, even if she was flying through the air on a piece of wood without having the slightest idea as to her surroundings. "We're just about there anyhow, I wouldn't put you through such a terror for longer than absolutely necessary."

Lily nestled her face into James' back and kept her eyes tightly closed, not even opening them when he warned her of their landing. She slipped somewhat ungracefully off the broom, James catching her arm and putting one hand over her eyes. "All right, now forward," he instructed with a smile in his voice.

She sighed, but smiled despite herself. "I do wonder what you have planned that you are being so insistent about."

"Well, it took a bit of planning, and quite a lot of bribing Sirius."

Lily stopped. "Uh oh."

"No no, nothing to be worried about. Keep going," he nudged gently, his breath tickling her ear.

She stepped forward again, letting James' strong arms guide her gently into tall, soft grass. "It smells of flowers," she noted, giving into the pleasant mystery.

"Hmm. Does it?" asked James, feigning ignorance. "All right… you can open your eyes."

James removed his hand from her eyes. Lily looked around and realized they were in a meadow covered in buttercups, with lilies lining the forest where the meadow ended on either side. In the middle of a meadow was a picnic blanket, with a traditional wicker picnic basket sitting on top and a bottle of wine in a tub of ice. Birds chirped happily in surrounding trees. Lily considered joining them in chirping.

"Oh, James, this is absolutely _beautiful_," Lily breathed. She stepped forward and looked with wonder at the scene before her. Finally she stood on the picnic blanket and looked at James with a gigantic grin on her face. He stood where he had let her go, holding his broomstick limply in one hand, and he stared at her with soft eyes and a half-smile on his face. "What? What's the matter?"

"Nothing," he said at once in a wispy voice.

"James, you've got a very peculiar expression on your face. What's going on?"

"Have I?" he said, more upbeat, and a real grin spread across his face as he stepped toward her. His eyes, however, remained rather softer than usual. "Sorry, got lost in space for a moment there."

"Mm. Nice up there?"

James sat down heavily on the blanket. "Quite. Bit nippy."

"I can imagine, this time of year."

"It's June."

"And in December it's right freezing."

James laughed; the sound bounced off between the trees and came back to them. Lily smiled warmly and began unpacking the picnic. Peanut butter and jam sandwiches, strawberries, and a bar of Honeydukes chocolate came out of the basket. Lily laughed gleefully and bit happily into one of the sandwiches. After a silence punctuated with chewing, she sighed happily and patted his knee affectionately. "This was a highly successful adventure, James, thank you."

He gave a high-pitched, nervous laugh in reply. "Don't say that yet." She noticed that he had only taken a couple of bites of his first sandwich, while she was already tearing into her second one.

"James?" she asked with concern, putting down her sandwich.

James grinned nervously and put down his sandwich. He looked briefly past her and nodded at the trees. She twisted around to look, but saw nothing; instead, she heard the melodic tones of a violin emanating from the trees. She looked back at James with a quizzical expression and saw him watching her with a sober expression, his eyes wide and sincere. He held out a hand as he stood and brought her to her feet. Soon both her hands were clasped in his.

"My family had this saying," he began, all traces of kidding gone from his face. Rarely was James this serious. "It goes, _the last enemy that shall be destroyed is death_. It sounds bad, I know," he said hastily at the expression on Lily's face. "Dad said it a lot. All he meant was that it was important that we live beyond death, in memory. To do so is to defeat it." James swallowed and looked briefly at his feet. The violin played on. Lily opened her mouth to speak, but James looked back at her and kept going. "He was always quite adamant that people are here to change the world, to give their existences meaning. Fighting dark forces is part of that for me, but I realized the other day that there was something missing from that meaning. It wasn't complete. And finally I figured out what it was.

"You are the reason that I fight, Lily. I'm not fighting to give my life meaning. I'm fighting for a world where you and I can create a life for ourselves in peace. I'm fighting so you and I can live the rest of our lives together and have a family and change the world _that _way, by bringing beautiful and happy children into the world and teach them to make a difference. I firmly believe that I am on this planet to give you the happy and fruitful life that you deserve, free of this chaos and pain and suffering. I am here so that I can provide you with picnics like this every day without having to cast a dozen protective charms before doing so. That is my purpose. That is why I am here."

James fished something out of his pocket and got down on one knee. "I love you madly, Lily Evans. You're the only woman in the world for me, and that will never change. I hope you will do me the honour of becoming my wife…" James seemed to have more to say, but his voice got caught in his throat. He held the ring out in gesture of the rest of what he wanted to say and looked up at Lily with wide eyes. For a second, all he could do was watch the tears rolling down her face, her red hair being teased by a light wind, her mouth covered by her hands. Then she moved her left hand and there was a grin behind it; she nodded as she extended the hand to him gracefully. James grinned with relief and moved to put the ring on her finger – and promptly dropped it onto the blanket.

"Damnit," he said quietly as his large and sweaty fingers struggled to pick it up. "I'm sorry there's no velvet box, I took the ring out to look at it and the box fell into the toilet and –"

The ring now on her finger, Lily bent down and kissed James to silence him. "It's perfect," she whispered, apparently unable to stem the flow of tears down her face. James stood up and wrapped his arms around her, holding her slender form against him and swallowing against the lump that had formed in his own throat.

A strangled cry of joy came suddenly from inside the forest, then a clang as the violin apparently fell to the ground. James shut his eyes and chuckled against the image of Sirius with his arms in the air as Lily accepted, forgetting the violin he was enchanting to play.

Lily laughed too and turned into the woods. "You can come out, Sirius," she called.

A handsome figure came bounding over the lilies and through the meadow, a wide grin across his features. "You're engaged!" he cried. "You're engaged!"

"I know!" Lily shouted back at him. Sirius came over and took one of each of their hands and began bounding in a circle.

"Wedding time, wedding time, wedding time," Sirius chanted gleefully.

"Oi, Padfoot, chill out," James said finally, laughing as he stepped away from his hyperactive friend. Sirius grinned as his own behaviour and panted playfully, imitating his canine self even further. "Here," James said, picking up a sandwich and handing it to Sirius. "Now bugger off."

Sirius frowned. "I put all this together and all I get is one sandwich?"

"What do you want, two sandwiches?"

"Well… yeah."

"Fine." James handed him another. "_Now_ bugger off, please and thanks."

Sirius grinned and saluted. "As you wish, o engage-ed one." He patted Lily softly on the shoulder, went to the edge of the meadow, and turned on the spot to disappear.

James turned to Lily sheepishly. "I'm sorry about that. I rather forget how excitable he is."

Lily smiled and kissed James tenderly. "That's all right. I suppose I've got to get used to it if I'm going to be Mrs. Lily Potter."

James giggled happily and took her into his arms again. "So… successful adventure?"

Lily nodded against the fabric of his robes. "Very."


	37. Prompt 452: Lake

_October, 1977_

Lily jolted awake in the Gryffindor common room, as usual, with parchment stuck to her face, as usual, to the sound of the portrait hole slamming shut from no apparent cause.

This, too, was usual lately. In point of fact, lately Lily had specifically decided to stay up late doing homework while keeping an eagle eye on the portrait hole to find out just what was going on. First years were starting to get scared. Fifth years were not helping with their spreading of rumours about the Bloody Baron going batshit every once in a while and killing an unworthy Gryffindor first year in their sleep. However, it was clear that not only first-years were sketched out; lately the common room was clearing out before ten, which was _not_ usual.

Lily, as Head Girl, decided it was up to her to find out what was going on.

James, as usual, was being a waste of space.

"Sorry, got Quidditch tomorrow," he said passively when she had asked him to stay up with her three days ago.

"James. This is more important than Quidditch. Something is instilling terror in the hearts of your fellow Gryffindors."

"Aren't Gryffindors supposed to be brave?"

"Yes. And the fact that they aren't in this situation makes me think that there's something serious going on."

"Look, Lily. I wouldn't be worried about it. It's probably just the wind."

"There's no breeze in here, James. Ever."

"Just relax. Get some sleep tonight. You look exhausted."

Lily had rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm sure you're really concerned about my well-being."

James had imparted her with those piercing eyes. "You know I am."

And she'd had to look at her feet. "Sorry," she'd muttered.

"I'm used to it," he'd grumbled, and disappeared up the spiral staircase.

Oddly, Quidditch had been the excuse for three nights now. Stranger still, Sirius seemed to find these practices non-compulsory, as he tended to wait until ten in the morning or so to wander out of bed.

So it was just Lily. Unfortunately she kept falling asleep and missing anything that happened before the portrait slammed shut and caught her attention.

Like tonight.

The only difference was that tonight, there were muddy footprints leading down from the boys' dorms and out the portrait hole.

Lily grabbed her cloak from behind her crept out the portrait hole and followed the footprints. The mud, she realized after a moment, was leading her out the castle doors. She hurried along, hoping to be able to see whatever it was that formed the footprints, and sure enough, once she got to the Great Hall she could see the footprints actually being formed. With a _squelch_, dollops of mud hit the marble floor. Then the door to the castle opened and closed softly. Lily hesitated. _If it's leaving, is it really much of a danger to the students?_ she thought, but then her curiosity got the better of her. She slipped just as quietly out the doors. She looked around for a moment – how was she going to follow the footprint now, when the whole field was horribly muddy with October rains? – but then a little ways down the hill, she actually saw the footprints being formed in the mud. She waited a moment so as not to be seen, then crept down the hill, wincing as her own feet made squelching sounds in the mud.

The footprints stopped abruptly at the lake. This, Lily reasoned, was probably due to the fact that a pair of muddy shoes had been thrown off and left carelessly beside a pile of robes and a light, silvery cloak, which shimmered beside the moonlit water.

_Wait a second,_ Lily thought as she regarded the cloak. _That looks familiar_…

Something broke the surface of the water. Lily jumped and scurried behind a nearby tree. Even in the poorly lit night, there was no mistaking James Potter's black hair, sticking up somewhat even though drenched, and his chiselled jaw. Lily glanced at the pile of clothing again and noticed a pair of glasses sitting atop the robes, confirming that James was indeed the figure in the water. Lily's shock turned suddenly to embarrassment… if all his clothing was over _here_…

Lily began to creep back up the hill, hoping she would go unseen, but she knew even before she started up the hill that James was bound to be coming out of the water soon. And sure enough…

"Evans?" His warm voice cut through the chilly night. Lily heard a _sploosh _as James rose from the water. She froze in her steps, knowing she was busted. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I was following the ghost that's been terrorizing Gryffindor tower," she said stiffly, without turning around. She didn't have any desire to see James Potter naked and hoped desperately that he was getting dressed as they spoke.

There was a sigh. "Ah, Lily. You can't let a damn thing go."

"Why should I?" she said, termper boiling. She turned on the spot without realizing what she was doing and was shocked to find that James was still mostly naked; he held his robes in a bunch in front of the relevant areas, but Lily still turned away in shock and shut her eyes tight. "Something was terrifying the students, I had to put their mind at ease, I have _no _idea what I'm going to tell them now, it's not going to be that the Head Boy goes skinny dipping in the lake every night that's for damn sure, and for pity's sake James, _why aren't you getting dressed?_"

"Why shouldn't you tell them that the Head Boy goes skinny dipping?" James asked, and Lily was furiously aware that he was making no effort to dress at all. "Although, I'd take it as a kindness if you didn't tell them, I was rather enjoying my little secret, but there's nothing wrong with it…"

"Right, there's nothing wrong with sneaking out of the castle after hours, which is against the rules, and potentially giving yourself hypothermia, which is against common sense. And Filch is going to shoot you if he finds out who's tracking mud all through the castle."

"Shoot me with what?"

"A gun. It's… nevermind what it is. Why on earth do you… do this?"

There was a smile in James' voice. "One night, about four summers ago, my parents and I had had a row. I went for a walk to cool off, and I found a pond. I stripped down and went for a swim. It was unbelievably refreshing. It cleared my mind instantly. I don't know if it's an enchanted pond or what – I've never seen anyone else there – but it became my favourite place to go when I needed somewhere to think. Just go for a swim in the middle of the night." He paused. "After… after my dad died last June, I started going to the pond every day. I came to terms with his death at that pond. I found when I got back to Hogwarts last month that I felt a bit off, so one night I came down here to go for a dip. This lake is almost as good as my pond back home."

Lily was silent. "That's actually quite a touching story," she said at last.

"I keep telling you, Evans, I'm not a bad guy."

Lily smiled and turned to regard James, but he was just as clad as he had been five minutes ago. "James! Get dressed!"

"Well, there's a second part of the ritual, see," James said, his voice oozing with arrogance. "After I get out of the pond, I just put on my shoes and Invisibility Cloak here and walk back to Gryffindor tower otherwise naked."

Lily shook her head. "I can't believe you."

"You should really join me sometime."

"In your dreams, Potter."

"Myrtle might get jealous though… she really seems to like my –"

Lily gave a noise of disgust and turned to leave.

"I hope your curiosity is satisfied!" he called softly after her.

She turned around and stared at him, scandalized, not even caring how clad he was. "I didn't even look!"

James gave a sudden burst of laughter. "Lily, that's not even what I _meant! _I was only talking about the mystery of who was walking through the portrait hole!"

Lily regarded him contemptuously, trying not to let her eyes linger on his muscular legs or well-toned chest, and turned and walked back up to the castle.

The next day, she informed the students that she'd had a chat with Peeves, and that if anyone felt him in the room, they should throw large and heavy objects at him.

James' excursions went much more unnoticed after that.


	38. Prompt 108: Silence

_December, 1986_

Argus Filch wheezed down the hallway, following Mrs. Norris closely. "They can't have gone far, my sweet," he muttered to her before being nearly bowled over by a couple of fleeing students. Startled, he looked around for the source of the chaos and saw Irma Pince jinxing the students' things to hit them on the back of their head as they sprinted down the hallway.

"That will teach you to play Exploding Snap in my library!" she shouted after them.

"Students," grunted Filch as he passed Irma by.

"They have no respect," she replied, more to herself than to Argus.

"They track snow all over the castle…"

"Get chocolate all over my books…"

"Cause chaos when they're on holidays…"

"No regard whatsoever for the silent sanctuary that is a library…"

"Give me more trouble than Peeves…"

"Talking loudly…"

"Making messes…"

"All I ask for is silence."

"At least cats are clean animals."

They both sighed. "I hate the holidays," they said simultaneously.

Madam Pince looked over to regard Argus; Mr Filch glanced at Irma with narrowed eyes; and at once their lips were pressed together, hands roving, and they stumbled backwards through the library doors and into Irma's office.

Irma's silent library, it would seem, would have to come at a later time.


	39. Prompt 234: Promise

**A/N: **Could be taken as a prequel to Prompt 312: Suicide (chapter 7 of this fic), but in some ways this whole damn fic is a series of prequels and sequels. This one and Suicide are directly correlated and take place hours apart, anyway.

Enjoy, to the extent that such tragedy is enjoyable. (Dramatic author's note is dramatic.)

_

* * *

May, 1998_

When he heard the crash and blood-curdling scream from the sitting room, Remus feared the worst.

He tore out of the kitchen, wand drawn. Dora was standing in a battle stance, pointing her own wand into the dark hallway. "When and where did we first meet?" she asked the hallway sharply, though the relief was obvious on her face. Remus crept around her and pointed his wand at the same spot. Kingsley Shacklebolt came into view, his wand pointing likewise at Tonks.

"In the lift at the Ministry of Magic, seven years ago, when you cracked me in the back of the head with a broomstick so hard that Scrimgeour had to revive me. What did you first say to me when I woke up?"

Tonks smiled weakly, the colour coming back into her face as she lowered her wand. " 'Oh you poor bludger.' "

Unlike Tonks, Kingsley did not relax. Instead, he pointed his wand at Remus. "What did you tell me about Fenrir Greyback last year?"

Remus smiled wanly. "I told you that however much I hated him, I was never convinced I wanted him dead until I witnessed him attacking a Muggle child for merry sport."

Kingsley nodded curtly and finally lowered his wand. "I'm sorry about bursting in here. I admit I've gotten so used to it that I forgot myself."

"Is something happening, Kingsley?" Tonks asked.

Shacklebolt nodded. "Arthur just sent me a message. Harry Potter has turned up at Hogwarts. He says You-Know-Who is coming. We're going to fight him."

Remus blinked in astonishment, then nodded. "How are we going to get there?"

"We have to get to Aberforth Dumbledore. There's a portrait that goes to Hogwarts from the Hog's Head."

Remus nodded again. "Best go now, then. Dora, you take Teddy to your mother's house, and –"

"I'll be there shortly," she said, nodding in kind.

Remus stopped. "No you won't," he said sternly. "You'll stay there and you'll stay safe."

Tonks raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Knowing Tonks, there was going to be a blowout. "I'll wait outside," Kingsley said to no one in particular, then bowed out of the room.

"You don't get to boss me around, Remus. I am quite capable of making my own decisions, and –"

"And Teddy is not going to end up like Harry. Did you hear him, Dora? You-Know-Who is going to Hogwarts. This is highly dangerous, and –"

Tonks was tired from tending to a month-old baby, and lost her temper quickly. "And I am a fully trained Auror, which is more than you can ruddy well say for yourself."

Remus' face flashed anger. "Right, because I didn't study my whole life to be an Auror just to be rejected universally on account of the reputation of my affliction." Remus, realizing that this was not a good time to be fighting, looked away and swallowed his anger. "Look," he said slowly. "I only want you to be safe. Please, Dora. Take Teddy. Go to your mother's house, and wait. Our son needs you."

"He needs you, too," she pleaded with him, stepping closer and imploring him with wide eyes. "Look, you told me… you told me that when Harry was born, James was taken out of the field. And even though James wanted to fight You-Know-Who, he accepted the decision, because he knew his family needed him."

Remus' expression was steely. "James stopped fighting less than a month before he was killed, and he only stopped then because he knew Voldemort was after him." Remus looked wearily around the room, realizing he'd broken taboo, but nothing stirred; a true indication that something was going on at Hogwarts. "If he'd kept fighting all the way, maybe we could have beaten him the first time around," he finished hollowly.

"We both know you couldn't have, not without the information we have now, so stop that," she snapped. But she took Remus' hand and softened immediately. "Come with us, Remus. Please. It's not just Teddy who needs you. I need you, too."

Remus swallowed. "One by one, Voldemort took my friends from me. First Peter, though I didn't know it. Then James. Sirius was gone for thirteen years, and during that time I lost him too. I lost all faith in him. After he got out of Azkaban, I had him back in a way, but he was a different man than the one I knew. And then Voldemort took him again."

He looked at her. "I need to be part of this. If there is a chance that we can finish it tonight, I have to be there. Please understand, Dora. I don't want to leave you, but I need to."

Dora looked into his eyes, then nodded slowly, swallowing against the lump in her throat. "Let me fight with you."

"No," he said hoarsely. "I need to know that you and Teddy are safe. In case I don't make it… he can't end up like Harry…"

"You'll make it," she decided, tears leaping over her eyelids and onto her cheeks. "Promise me you'll keep a level head."

Remus' lips twitched. "Please. When have I ever not had a level head?"

"I can think of a few occasions recently…" He knew she was referring to his flight after she had gotten pregnant, but she was smiling anyway.

"All right, fair enough," he admitted.

"Promise me you'll stay alive," she whispered, tugging at his robes.

Remus took her into his arms and kissed her forehead. "I can't promise that, but I promise I'll try my best. And _you _promise _me_, please Dora, that you'll stay put and you won't come running after me anyway." He broke away from the hug and looked her straight in the eye, his pale blues penetrating her purple ones.

She swallowed with difficulty, then leaned forward and kissed him. "I promise," she whispered as she broke away.

Remus sighed with relief. "Thank you," he whispered back and pressed his forehead against hers. "Thank you."

Despite what he couldn't promise Dora, when Remus went upstairs and swept his slumbering son into his arms, he found he could promise Teddy that he'd be home as soon as he could and believe it entirely himself.

Unbeknownst to Teddy, who slept on in his father's arms, neither of his parents would keep their promise that night.


	40. Prompt 470: Fag

**A/N: **I was concerned about this prompt. I couldn't think of how to incorporate cigarettes into the Potterverse without it seeming very misplaced, so the only thing left was this derogatory term for homosexuality. Then my boss sent me the _1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue_ (yes, it's a real book) and, wonderfully, "fag" really did mean little servant boy (among other things) among the lower classes a couple centuries ago. If this still offends anyone, I'm sorry. It was my intention to avoid that possibility as much as possible.

Thanks to all reviewers, new and returning. I'm continually amazed at the amount of feedback I get from y'all. I hope you enjoy. :)

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_November, 1976_

When James sat down at Gryffindor table that morning, Sirius was _reading_. A _book_. Without _any pictures of nude women in it._

"Merlin's pants," James breathed. "Padfoot, are you feeling quite well?"

The shaggy black head emerged from behind the book, sporting a huge grin. "Prongs! Look what Moony got me for my birthday!"

James leaned forward and read the title. _1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue_.

"Ah," said James, nodding emphatically. "Now I understand."

"It's excellent! Did you know that the _green sickness_ refers to the way that birds feel when they're not getting any?"

"Sounds like they're also jealous of their best mate, who's being shagged left and right."

"Hey, that makes sense! You've got a knack for this, Prongs! We should make our own!"

"You can't _make your own _historical slang," Remus said with an amused smile as he helped himself to a dollop of oatmeal. "But I'm glad you like it, Padfoot. It's about time you got around to reading books."

"I read plenty," replied Sirius distractedly, eyes flying across the page.

"Of smutty magazines, maybe," Peter interjected as he sat down at the table beside Sirius. "Which, oooh, speaking of which…" and he leaned over Sirius' shoulder to glance at what he was reading.

"Nay nay, dear Wormtail, this is much better than a smutty magazine," Sirius insisted, and began reading aloud that midwives were also known as gropers and began making gestures to indicate his interpretation of where the expression must have come as he and Peter snickered piggishly.

James' jaw dropped. "Better than smut? I've lost him!" He turned with reprehension to Remus. "Moony! You did this!"

Remus turned his half-amused, half-disappointed eyes away from Sirius' incredible ability to make anything and everything into something dirty and stared at James. "And I feel just sick about it," he said drily.

James opened his mouth to retort, but was saved the trouble as Lily and a small group of gaggling girls swept by and captured James' full attention. "Okay everyone, be cool," he muttered under his breath and turned hurriedly to his breakfast. He turned his head to watch her in what he thought was a discreet manner at the same time that he brought oatmeal up to his mouth and ended up slathering his cheek with oatmeal.

Remus and Peter laughed loudly. "All right, James. We'll be cool," Remus assured him.

Sirius kept reading his book. "What are you three on about?"

"Lily just walked by."

"Ooooh." Sirius closed his book and looked around eagerly, spotting her not far down the table. "Time for Prongs to embarrass himself."

"Shut up," James snapped. His vocabulary diminished to several very short phrases when he was trying to prove to Lily that he wasn't a _complete _arse. Unfortunately, his reputation was very solid in her eyes, and she made every effort to make it known to him. More unfortunately still, most of those short phrases made him sound like a complete arse.

"I need a different tack," James murmured, mostly to himself. "What can my tack be?"

"The tack of being a tacky prat?" suggested Sirius.

"No," James replied distractedly.

"It's all right, you try that one daily, it doesn't seem to work very well," Sirius said.

"What about that of being a tacky, obsessive prat?" Peter added. "No, wait… got that one down too."

"Shut up," James said again, now watching Lily quite plainly as his spoon dripped oatmeal onto his lap.

"Ooh, that reminds me," Sirius began without any obvious lead-in to what he was about to say. "Did you wash my Quidditch robes, Prongs?"

"What?" James' eyes tore away from Lily and landed on Sirius with confusion. "No. Why would I wash your Quidditch robes?"

"Because I asked you to and you agreed."

"Bollocks. I wouldn't have agreed to that."

"Well, you did, so—"

"I most certainly did not. I am not your laundry maid."

"It'd be lovely if you were, though. We can play dress-up later."

James' facial expression reached a new level of incredulity. "No we cannot, and when did I allegedly agree to wash your Quidditch robes?"

"Yesterday morning. We were getting up for Quidditch, and I said my robes had grass stains on them, and you said uh-huh, and then I said they also smelled like I'd had lots of ruddy sex in them, and you said I probably did, and then I said you could only have known that if you were there, and you said that you'd wash my robes after practice if I'd only shut up about them."

"What, at five o'clock in the morning? I don't even remember that!"

"Evidently," Sirius pouted.

"Wash your own damn robes, Padfoot."

Sirius' chin quivered as he looked up at James with big eyes. "James, it's my _birthday_."

"And I got you a nice, shiny present that you haven't even acknowledged yet for absorption in Moony's gift. I have fulfilled my duty as a mate. I'm not doing your laundry just because it's the anniversary of your mother's never-ending anguish."

Sirius fidgeted. James looked around to see that Lily was gone from her seat. He deflated. "Aren't you washing your own robes tonight?" Sirius asked him innocently.

"No."

"You are, aren't you?"

"No."

"It wouldn't hurt if you just washed mine while you were at it, would it?"

"No."

"Prongs! Please."

"Nnno."

"Please, Prongs."

"No!"

"Prongsie…"

"For Merlin's sake, James, just do it to get him to shut up," Remus interjected from behind a textbook.

James scowled. "Fine. I'll wash your ruddy robes."

Sirius grinned. "Yay! You're my good little fag."

James stared blankly at Sirius. Remus' and Peter's heads whipped around to look at the pair with astonishment. James opened his mouth very slowly, as though really unsure about what to say in response, when a scalding voice from behind him cut through.

"I'm sorry… did I hear that right? You and Black are _gay _for each other, Potter?"

James' insides froze. It was Lily. Of course it was Lily. It was always Lily. He didn't dare turn around. He opted instead to take his anger out on Padfoot by kicking him under the table. "Sirius, what the _fuck _did you say that for? You knew she was standing right there!"

Sirius looked confused. "What? Oh… oh!" He laughed insanely and took on an expression of both horror and profound amusement. "Oh, no! No, no no no, not _that _kind of fag! Look," he said, brandishing his new book madly in front of him. "Fag means little servant boy! I was calling him my little servant boy because he said he'd wash my robes for me! Here, look, I'll find it for you," he said, and began leafing madly through the book, blushing and grinning at the absurdity of the situation.

Remus and Peter were wearing very wide grins and seemed to be buckling under the effort of trying not to laugh as James spun around in his seat. "I'm not gay," he said, deadpan.

"Really?" Lily said, her arms crossed and a smirk all too evident on her face as she looked down at James. "Because it sounded like the two of you were having quite the lover's spat. Him calling you _Prongsie_… something about you dressing up as a maid, I can only assume for bedroom purposes…"

"Ah, but your logic fails!" Sirius interjected, interrupting his mad search through the volume. "If I wanted him to dress up like a woman, I wouldn't be very good at being gay now, would I?"

"I don't pretend to understand your fantasies, Black."

"You know, Sirius," Remus put in, enjoying the situation immensely, "you did seem to be unusually enthusiastic about having James dress up for you—"

"Remus! Not helping!" James snapped at him.

"Now, now, if two of my best friends are having an affair, I feel I ought to know about it—"

"_Lupin!_" James hissed, and Remus and Peter found themselves losing a valiant battle against the urge to burst into hysterical laughter. James turned back to Lily. "Come on, Evans. After all the times I've asked you out, you must understand that I'm not gay." James frowned. "And even if I was, I wouldn't date _Sirius_."

"Why not?" Lily asked, eyebrows raised. "He seems rather like your soul mate, if you ask me. Better him than me, anyway."

James was getting irritated. "And why is that?"

"You must understand that I'm thinking about you, Potter. Even if you're not gay, you have a far better chance of getting Sirius to go out on a date with you than you ever will with me."

Remus and Peter gave a small "_oooohh_". They were a captive audience, if nothing else.

"In any case, I'm rather convinced by what I've heard," Lily continued, tugging at her sleeve casually. "Lots of ruddy sex… something about you being there while the deed was done… Really, all the evidence suggests that the two of you have quite the physical relationship going on." Lily placed a hand on James' shoulder. "And I couldn't be more proud that the two of you are so open about it. Maybe you're not such a bad guy after all, Potter." James said nothing. A fierce battle was raging within. "If you wish this coming-out process would go a little faster, I can help you spread the word if you want. Perhaps I'll start by telling the Slytherins, start with Sev and then—"

James' resolve broke. He rose from his seat and put his hands on her shoulders. "Lily," he said in a low voice, looking her straight in her gorgeous green eyes. "I love you. Not Sirius. You. Not any other girl, not any other bloke. Just you."

Lily's eyes searched his, and he realized with a jolt that she believed him. She stepped back out of his grasp, turned, and swept out of the hall without another word.

"Lily… oi, Evans!" James watched her go, then plopped dejectedly back in his seat.

"Well," said Remus delicately, "that certainly was a different tack."

"Shut up," James said, having reverted back to his monosyllabic vocabulary. He stared at his oatmeal as though trying to decide if he felt like eating anymore.

"Aha!" Sirius exclaimed, sliding his book under James' nose. "See? Fag means little servant boy! I wasn't making it up!"

James looked up at Sirius, blinked slowly, then cursed his clothing off and stormed out of the hall after Lily.

Sirius watched James go, then frowned as he regarded his own naked form. "He'll come around," he said, missing Remus' and Peter's sceptical expressions. He crossed his legs, turned to a random page in his book, and kept reading as he finished his toast.


End file.
